


So Homesick Now for Someone I Never Knew, So Homesick Now for Someplace I Will Never Be

by MellytheHun



Series: Not About Angels [2]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Dark Humor, Darth Tantrum and his Evil Space Ginger, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Humor, Hux's Tragic Past, Inappropriate Use of the Force, Kylo is Obsessive, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pain, Romance, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Tread Carefully, Trigger Warnings Are Always In Beginning Notes, Unethical Use of the Force, seriously, there will be so much pain to come
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-23
Updated: 2016-07-15
Packaged: 2018-07-16 21:42:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 44,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7285774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MellytheHun/pseuds/MellytheHun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kylo begins to find that the pull for him is not strongest towards the Light or the Dark, but to the ice blue eyes and fiery red hair of General Hux.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title of Part Two is inspired by Time Won’t Let Me Go, by Bravery 
> 
> Whenever I look back,  
> On the best days of my life,  
> I think I saw them all on T.V.  
> I am so homesick now for,  
> Someone that I never knew.  
> I am so homesick now for,  
> Someplace I will never be.
> 
> Time won't let me go.  
> Time won't let me go.  
> If I could do it all again,  
> I'd go back and change everything,  
> But time won't let me go.
> 
> I never had a 'Summer of 69'.  
> Never had a Cherry Valance of my own.  
> All these precious moments,  
> You promised me would come in time.  
> So where was I when I missed mine?
> 
> Time won't let me go.  
> Time won't let me go.  
> If you gave me back those years,  
> I'd do it all better, I swear.  
> Time won't let me go.
> 
> If I could go back once again,  
> I would change everything, yeah,  
> If I could go back once again,  
> I'd do it all so much better.
> 
> Time won't let me go.  
> Time won't let me go.  
> If I could do it all again,  
> I'd go back and change everything,  
> But you won't ever let me go.

A true icon of grace and control, Hux actually falls on his ass as soon as he opens the doors to his room, and sees Kylo standing there with a bag.

Kylo mentions, as he did the first time he stood outside Hux’s room unannounced, that he didn’t mean to frighten the General, and this time he had a valid reason for being there, as he was just following orders. Hux scowls from the floor, his uniform all in place, and himself the picture of militant perfection, but his head throbbing with a hangover.

Hux feels sick, but he isn’t allowing it to show, aside from his paler-than-usual skin, which can’t really be helped.

Even from his sprawled seat on the ground, he looks up at Kylo with dignified frustration. He mutters something about Kylo being a “menace,” then sighs deeply.

“Did you…” Hux starts awkwardly, pushing down some of his hair, and unable to make eye-contact, “…uhm, listen, Ren, occasionally, I have unpleasant dreams – as any man does. They tend to worsen when I drink. Last sleep cycle, I…. didn’t, though. Did you… _do_ something?”

Kylo looks down at the General, and admits, “yes, I did. It’s not lasting. I was too weak after the interrogation to do anything that would last more than a single sleep cycle. Did I offend you?”

“No, not at all,” Hux replies, holding his burning forehead, “Just. It was strange.”

Kylo is glad for his voice modulator. He’s glad for his mask. Looking upon Hux now – he knows what he feels, or at least he knows something he wants definitively, and he’s never been described as subtle.

Just as his rage is apparent and boisterous, he imagines all of his emotions are, even these ones he has never experienced before, and he needs to school himself before showing his face to Hux again. The mask grants him some time in which to do that.

He tilts his head, his hood slipping a little.

“Would you like me to join you on the floor, or aid you in standing up?”

Hux glares at him and sneers, “ _neither_.”

Without help, Hux goes to stand up stubbornly and Kylo reads over him quickly; his head is swimming, his muscles are tightly wound, he has lactic acid build up making it somewhat painful to move and the widespread pain is worsening his growing nausea. Kylo lifts one hand and takes the weight of Hux off the ground, helping him to his feet without touching him like a particularly well-sculpted gust of wind.

Hux’s arms fly out to balance himself as he’s pulled up by the Force. He swallows a burning sensation in his throat and nods, straightening his jacket that needs no straightening.

“Right. Thank you, Ren. That wasn’t necessary.”

“Of course not.”

“You… I ordered you to move in last cycle?”

Positively, Kylo nods, and Hux, predictably, sighs long-sufferingly. Kylo touches lightly at Hux’s frontal lobe, hungry for Hux’s sober thoughts.

_– and just skip the formalities and send me straight to the gallows Drunk Hux strikes again this is going to be a disaster if he wrecks anything in my room I will kill him while he sleeps – I should warn him about that not that warning him ever actually stops him from acting out what does he have in that bag? Does Ren even own anything? He doesn't seem the type to -_

Kylo pulls away when he senses more of the same narrative coming on. It’s unclear whether or not Hux remembers anything significant from the prior cycle. Hux might be deliberately keeping it from the forefront of his mind, though.

 _Smart_ , Kylo thinks. At the same time he endlessly admires Hux’s ability to compartmentalize, he wishes he’d slip up sometime – give him some confirmation of anything.

He knows that he too should put the thoughts of the sleep cycle before from his mind, but it seems like a physical impossibility.

“Should I put my bag in your room? Or are you going to redact your command?”

“Well, it wasn’t my command originally, as I recall,” Hux replies conversationally, “This was Snoke’s command, correct?”

Kylo nods again, but adds, “you know I will disobey that order if it is disagreeable to you.”

Giving him an assessing look, Hux crosses his arms and responds steadily, “it’s not disagreeable. Go drop your bag in the common area, and then follow me to breakfast – we need to discuss what to do with the rebel woman and I need some strong caf – I have to speak to the Commandant again this work cycle. He’s displeased that I didn’t manage to close a deal with Chan-na Krin.”

“She’s still alive?”

“Quite,” Hux replies.

“Pity.”

After Hux makes some sort of humored scoff in response to that, Kylo follows Hux’s orders to drop his bags in the room, and when he’s back out in the hall, he tugs Hux closer to him by the forearm. Hux stumbles a step forward, but retains control over his expression. Kylo expected Hux to pull away from his grip, but he just allows Kylo to keep hold of his arm.

It's interesting now, as it always has been, that Hux harbors no fear of Kylo. Kylo is flattered by it more now than he has been by it in the past. He used to perceive it as an insult or even ignorance on Hux's part - now he sees it for the gift of trust it really is.

Kylo senses Hux’s pulse, trying to decipher what it might mean, that Hux is just allowing him to touch so casually.

Composure, as always, is all that he finds.

_Thirty-three beats per minute. How do you do it?_

“Self-control,” Hux answers verbally, cocking a brow, “Something you wouldn’t understand.”

Kylo smirks.

If only Hux knew the level of control he forces Kylo to practice – how much control he is practicing _now_.

Just the curl of his fingers around Hux’s forearms is more gentle than he thought he was capable of being while wide awake, in full armor. The memory of cradling Hux’s face as he drunkenly fell asleep seems like it was done by someone else – a stranger, maybe even Ben Solo, or maybe it was just the person he was before he was the person who wanted to kiss General Hux. A person he barely remembers being.

Holding Hux’s arm as he is, he remembers Hux fixing that control panel from so long ago – complaining about “gripes,” with his sleeves rolled up. Idly, Kylo wonders why he didn’t notice the scars that cycle so long ago.

Leia Organa’s voice echoes in his head; she spoke to Ben once, of matters such as these - and she told him that he will never see what he is not looking for, and vice versa, if he is determined to be confirmed, he will see evidence to support his bias no matter what is really before him. She told him the dangers of biased thought, and warned him of the terrific wonders he would miss out on if he did not keep his eyes peeled for opportunity and new ways of perceiving.

He wonders what may have been different between Hux and him if that cycle, he had been looking for pain, been looking for marred skin, noticed the scars running up Hux’s forearms instead of the cadet jargon he was insecure about not readily understanding.

He wonders if he would have mocked Hux for it, like Snoke had, or if it would have jump-started his admiration for Hux.

He wonders what they feel like, what running the length of his fingers along them might feel like. He wonders what it might be like to kiss those scars, breathe there, against them; he wonders, if Hux would ever let him, what it might make Hux feel.

“Let me heal you before you start your work,” Kylo offers, wanting to escape his own damning thoughts, “No sense in you feeling like this when I can rid you of it. Agreed?”

“Fine,” Hux answers reluctantly, his eyes giving Kylo suspicious glances, “Agreed.”

The headache is familiar business, easing the lactic acid in Hux’s muscles requires more time – it’s not something Kylo has ever done before.

“Can I touch your skin?”

“What?”

Kylo is tempted to take his mask off, but he’s too worried about how his eyes or voice might betray him.

Instead of his face, he shows his naked hands, palms up and says, “the body pain is spread wide. If you’ll allow me to touch your waist without barriers, I can destroy it more quickly.”

“My waist?” Hux asks, looking suspicious again.

“If you don’t want me to, Hux, I won’t.”

There are a few beats of silence. Hux is exhausted, wants more than anything to crawl back into bed and sleep for another four cycles, and he’s wary of Kylo. Kylo can’t tell why yet.

“You keep looking at me like I might hurt you.”

Hux crosses his arms, “we’ve been over this. Traps. I’m inclined to believe this is a trap.”

“What will convince you otherwise?”

Rolling his eyes, Hux answers, “who knows, maybe I’d be less convinced this were a trap if you weren’t asking to touch my body where all my most vital organs are, Ren.”

“I am your protector and healer. You said so yourself,” Kylo begins, stomach turning nervously when Hux rolls his eyes again, “You were relieved – when you found me on Starkiller, and you were relieved again when I came to you safely at the gala. If my trap is meant to make you care about something other than yourself, then you’ve already fallen into it. You should see by now that I am uninterested in lying to you and even arguing with you has lost its appeal.”

As if in childlike shame, Hux looks down at his boots, then back up to where Kylo’s eyes would show were his mask off.

_And to kill you would be to kill myself._

“What the Hells does that mean?” Hux asks without any heat.

_That you set the trap first and killing you would destroy me._

“ _Destroy_ you?” Hux laughs coldly, disbelievingly.

“Destroy me,” Kylo repeats seriously.

The look in Hux’s eyes is unreadable – there is suspicion, yes, distrust certainly, but something akin to hope too. Kylo wonders if Hux likes the idea of destroying him, he wonders if Hux is getting a power high from Kylo’s admission.

Kylo wonders if Hux has ever been cherished before. Maybe Hux doesn’t know the signs – maybe he can’t hear what Kylo is not saying despite his fluency in unspoken word because this is a silent language he has never before seen.

Kylo hopes Hux feels something good from his words.

He thinks of how he made that small joke in Hux’s quarters the late cycle before the gala, and how Hux had hidden his face away, like his smile was something to be ashamed of. He hopes he sees Hux’s smile someday. He hopes he will hear Hux laugh again soon too.

“If you never trust me completely, I will understand it. I will hate it, but I will understand it. If you let me touch you, Hux, I’ll ask for you to disrobe enough for me to see the skin of your stomach and waist. I’ll spread my palms over your skin and branch myself out from there. I will take your pain away.”

Kylo doesn’t mean for those particular words to come out – the last time he said something like that, something horribly sad passed through Hux’s eyes. The ghost of something – or someone. Maybe a ghost of Hux he is still haunted by, as Kylo is by Ben Solo.

As feared, that Horrible Something passes through Hux’s eyes again, igniting some memory, some memory Kylo is hungry to witness, but won’t risk the progress he’s made to see.

Without another word, Hux looks down as he undoes his belt and uniform jacket. He un-tucks his button-down shirt and rolls up the undershirt beneath that, rolling it all up to his ribs. He leans his shoulder blades against the wall, tilting his body angularly towards Kylo in a very distracting way, and then he looks up at Kylo again.

“Get on with it, then.”

Kylo nods once and swallows hard.

He is partial to this – this nudity. He likes to see Hux’s skin. His stomach is flat, thin, but his muscles are firm and make small shadows across his abdomen. There are fine red hairs above and below his navel, growing thicker and darker the lower Kylo’s eyes follow them. There are freckles too – light, cinnamon looking spots scattered across Hux's porcelain skin.

He places his hands over Hux’s stomach, splaying his fingers and applying some pressure from his thumbs.

A vision begins to creep into his mind’s eye; something with the warmth of flesh on flesh, maybe the sound of a sigh – he doesn’t allow it to form. He tells himself it’s not a vision – it’s a fantasy.

His wishful thinking is driving him mad, that’s all.

Madness, he is accustomed to.

Madness, that is a familiar Demon.

Hope, want for something soft, plush, warm, gentle, and human – that is a stranger. A dangerous one, at that.

Spreading himself through Hux’s muscles proves more difficult than traversing Hux’s brains or blood. He can feel the acid against his energies like it were against his own skin. Ridding it is like setting a fire throughout Hux’s body, turning all the acid to smoke and then clearing it away.

His fingers twitch in surprise when hears Hux seethe.

_Are you alright?_

_Yes, fine – that hurt a bit is all. What was that?_

_Just acid. It will rid you of your body aches._

_Definitely not killing me, then?_

_No, not killing you._

_Thank you._

_It’s always an honor to heal you, Hux._

Once Kylo has healed everything he can, he opens his eyes, takes his hands back hurriedly, and is glad to see color returning to Hux’s face. Hux’s own eyes seem to have been focused on Kylo’s chest. Kylo is unsure for how long. He wonders what Hux is thinking of.

His chest is bigger than Hux’s. Broader, stronger. He wonders if Hux is envious or, if Kylo dares to hope, perhaps Hux has spent this time admiring it.

He thinks to himself absently that he will spend more time on his chest in the gym.

“All that’s left to do is hydrate and get some protein into you,” Kylo announces, pulling his gloves back on, “You’ll be tired, but I will ensure you sleep well this upcoming sleep cycle, and by this work cycle's end you should be in fine shape.”

“Did you take me back to my quarters last cycle?”

Kylo’s brow furrows and his face flushes, though Hux can't see any of that.

“Yes.”

“Did I…” Hux trails off a little, still staring at Kylo’s chest, “…I don’t remember much after having bandaged you, frankly. And I…”

There’s a long enough pause that Kylo feels the need to prompt him, “…you?”

“I’m sorry.”

Not what Kylo expected.

“…for what?”

“For what I said,” Hux replies, staring down at Kylo’s chest still, unwilling to look at where Kylo’s eyes would be, “I said some things in anger. Whether they have some degree of merit to them is irrelevant. I was out of line. You had just saved my life, and I acted like a child. I understand that you have to leave. I shouldn’t have… I just, I understand. And I’m sorry for how I reacted to the news of your upcoming departure.”

Kylo’s heart is pounding; he so badly wants to say, ‘oh no, I reasoned with Master Snoke and I don’t have to leave you at all or ever again,’ or ‘I’ve decided to disobey his orders and stay aboard _Aurora_ with you,’ or ‘Master Snoke is allowing me to take you with me, and so now we will never have to part – the way I want it to be.’ He wants so badly to tell Hux he doesn’t have to leave, and he can’t even tell if it would be more a comfort for him or for Hux.

He wonders how Hux might react, if he could tell Hux in honesty that he didn’t have to go. If Hux’s eyes would shimmer the way they do when he laughs, or if he would look proud and untouchable, as if to say, ‘of course you’re not leaving, I wouldn’t allow it.’ He wonders if Hux would say words to him like he did when he was drunk – that he wants Kylo to stay, that Kylo makes him feel safe, that he believes Kylo, that he trusts Kylo, that Kylo makes him feel worthy.

He wonders again what it might feel like to kiss Hux - to kiss his lips. What Hux’s full lips might feel like as opposed to the tender, satin skin of his stomach, the smooth skin of his temple and the flushed skin of his lightly freckled cheek. He wonders if all of these wonders have come too late.

“All this time you have been trying to get back to training and I have been… selfish,” Hux confesses – the amount of emotion in his voice frightens even him, it seems, and he shakes it off, clearing his voice, looking off and away as he pulls his shirts down, “Once you decided to actually prove you were _useful_ to some degree, I suppose I felt some sort of misguided, maladaptive sense of ownership or something… you wanted to be congratulated on being reunited with Supreme Leader Snoke and the other Knights of Ren and rather than support you, I acted out like a brat. And for that, I apologize.”

Rejecting the apology is not an option, no matter how much Kylo wants to. He’d like to tell Hux there is no apology necessary, that drunkenly, Hux explained why he didn’t want Kylo to leave and Kylo understands. More than understands, he feels similarly. He wants to stay for all the reasons Hux wants him to and more.

He can’t say that, though.

So, he replies instead, “consider it forgiven and forgotten.”

Once Hux has nodded his appreciation and gotten himself back in order, he starts leading the way to his dining room. Phasma is not in the hall to meet them as she usually is – when asked about it, Hux explains that he asked her to take on some of his earlier responsibilities for the cycle, thinking he would be evidently hung over with a desperate need for rest.

“Now, though, I actually feel capable of keeping food down,” Hux comments gladly, “And I’d like your input for the next three cycles’ itinerary, so her absence is actually rather serendipitous.”

“My input?” Kylo asks curiously.

“Yes,” Hux says, looking down at an inbox on his holopad as he walks, “Next three cycles will be your last aboard _Aurora_. I’m told people like to make these milestones memorable or something. Sentimentality. Absurd, really, but you’re someone who runs mostly on emotion, so I’m inclined to think you’d like to spend the next three cycles engaging Officer Vitaan, Captain Phasma, or harassing me for my first name or other such pastimes you've indulged in. Whatever you’d like to do for your final cycles abroad _Aurora_ , I'd like to have arranged. Within reason, of course. If you know what reason is. We can work an itinerary into –"

“Take the next three cycles off.”

Halting and spinning on his heel, Hux turns to him, lowering his arms and holopad, brows high.

“What?”

“I want you to take the next three cycles off.”

“…take _off_ the next three cycles?”

“I despise sharing your time with others,” Kylo starts, “Take off the next three cycles and don’t leave my side. Give me your undivided attention. Three cycles. That’s what I want.”

Only more befuddlement spreads itself over Hux’s countenance, handsome and endearing as it is, so Kylo adds, “I want to meditate with you. I want to spar. I want to expand our illusion. I would certainly like to spend time with Nali, and I’d like to take care of you as well as I can for the remainder of my time here. The ship can survive three cycles without your watchful eye.”

They start walking again as Hux tries to make sense of what Kylo has asked of him.

“… assuming taking _three cycles_ off, as a _General_ of the _First Order_ , _wouldn’t_ result in absolute chaos and panic, would you be available to use your Force powers for some mean-spirited pranks?”

Coming to his own surprised halt, Kylo grins behind his mask at the back of Hux’s head and he wants so badly to shake his head fondly, to touch Hux again, to cup his face, his waist, link their arms like they had at the gala – but he doesn’t. He nods dutifully, and replies in all seriousness, “so long as I can spend some time harassing Haas, I think that arrangement might work nicely.”

Hux smirks and looks down at his holopad again, “to think that poor boy has no idea he lives in a lion’s den while you’re up and about _Aurora_.”

“Oh, he knows,” Kylo mutters, “and besides – I promised you I wouldn’t kill him until you gave me permission to.”

Hux shakes his head again, brushing away some hair from his forehead and sighing out, “I’d just like to say that this entire – whatever the Hells it is we have here – is fucking bizarre.”

Kylo starts walking again, smiling at the line of Hux’s shoulders.

_You’ve loved every minute of it. Even when you were terrified._

_Yes. I did._

There’s something sad, something solemn and mournful in Hux’s silent reply, and Kylo thinks he knows what it is, but he isn’t brave enough to hope he is so important to Hux.

“Three cycles…” Hux mumbles to himself in disbelief, pulling Kylo from his thoughts, “Haven’t asked for a cycle off in all my years of service. Even when I was struck with Idolian fever; took me five standard months of intensive treatment to recover, and I was still at my post, working fifteen hour work cycles, and now I’m about to go ask for three entire cycles off because a mad man with some type of fire sword wants to meditate with me in the name of sentimentality.”

“It’s not fire,” Kylo corrects, smile weak, but growing back, “I could teach you about my lightsaber – about how they work, if you want.”

Hux gives Kylo a side-glance, lips twitching up a little, then he goes back to looking at his holopad.

“I’d like that, Ren.”


	2. Chapter 2

Twenty minutes into a lecture on how lightsabers are actually built, Mitaka finds the pair on their way to breakfast. Kylo is rather flattered that Hux seems sincerely annoyed that someone interrupted his lesson on lightsaber construction – his expression is so dry and irritated towards the smaller man, Kylo can only smile.

He used to think Hux’s irritation was obnoxious and dramatic, but now that he’s not at the receiving end of it, he can admire it.

He likes to see Hux’s eyes turn to aggravated, dangerous slits – there have been times in the past that it was rewarding to get Hux riled up, but Kylo finds that now, he enjoys seeing Hux riled up for a different reason entirely.

Mitaka mentions nervously that Captain Phasma is inquiring after Hux, and starts going on about the engineers wanting to talk to him after his conference with the Commandant. While he’s talking, Kylo feels Hux nudge him with an elbow.

He looks at Hux’s profile in confusion, but Hux doesn’t look back at him, so he lets himself into Hux’s head like a friendly neighbor with a copy of the house key.

_What is it?_

_Is Mitaka dimwitted enough to play a mind trick on?_

Kylo smirks.

_You want me to send him away?_

_Yes._

Kylo lifts his right hand, his left settled on the hilt of his saber at his waist. Mitaka slowly trails off and looks to Kylo at the strange gesture. Over many cycles, Kylo has instilled small bursts of reactionary anxiety into Mitaka whenever they meet and so, when Kylo raises his hand, he can sense Mitaka’s fear. He’s humored by it, and after a few seconds, Mitaka’s eyes become unfocused.

“This is not the superior you were looking for. You meant to find Captain Phasma. You are in a great hurry, as General Hux has requested her audience.”

Mitaka barely misses a beat.

“This is not the superior I was looking for. I meant to find Captain Phasma. I’m in a great hurry, as General Hux has requested her audience.”

Lowering his hand and tilting his head curiously, Kylo asks, “well, Dopheld Mitaka, if you’re in such a great hurry, I would think it prudent to be on your way now.”

Mitaka blinks a few times, his eyes coming back into focus, and then he nods, rigidly saluting Hux and saying hastily, “right, sir – my apologies, I’ll let Captain Phasma know you are awaiting her.”

Once he’s out of earshot, Hux turns to Kylo, an almost-smile screwing up his lips in this charming way Kylo has seen before when Hux is trying not to laugh.

“And one must absolutely be Force sensitive to do that? You’re quite sure you can’t teach me how to do that particular trick?”

“Your skills in mind control are terrifying enough to your underlings as it is, without being Force sensitive, Hux. Believe me when I tell you that you hardly have need for mind tricks. If you had just told Mitaka to get the Hells out of your sight, he’d have soiled himself in terror and left with his tail between his legs. It's just as effective, if not more so.”

Hux drags a gloved hand down his face to hide his, now undeniable, smile.

“Thank you,” Hux says, muffled and a little a sarcastic, “I’m so flattered you think so darkly of me.”

“I’ll admit, though, that I often wish you _were_ Force sensitive.”

Hux drops his hand and looks curiously at Kylo, “is that so?”

“Yes,” Kylo answers honestly, “I often think about it while I meditate. It relaxes me – knowing you are an ally to me eases my mind. When I imagine how powerful we might be together if we could connect through the Force – it’s useless, I know, to think of things that cannot come to fruition, but I still spend time thinking about it.”

There is no verbal response, but Hux radiates understanding. Perhaps he too, has thought of being Force sensitive. Kylo wonders if Hux and he fantasize about the same things; rising to power, overthrowing what powers stand now. Battling alongside one another, exchanging their experiences of space-time in fluid silence. Ruling together.

“What’s your thing with first names?”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve noticed that you call all my officers by their first names,” Hux explains, gesticulating vaguely in the direction Mitaka left, “You call Officer Gillash ‘Jardom,’ you call Officer Vitaan ‘Nali’ and when you’re bothered by my officers, you seem to call them by their full names. I’ve heard you address Haas as ‘Naos Haas,’ more often than not, and just now, you called Mitaka by his full name.”

They look at each other for a few moments until Hux adds innocuously, “it’s just an observation. You press me often for my first name as well – is it to express anger? Or are you just intent on disregarding people’s hard-earned titles?”

“I find that it makes people feel small,” Kylo replies seriously, “A surname is balanced upon generations of people – it is a title held by many, not easily dismantled or dirtied. A first name is much different. Personal to that individual. When I call Nali by her first name, it is to show her that I see her as a person and individual. When I call Haas ‘Naos Haas,’ it is a reminder.”

Kylo shifts his weight a little, and he notices that when he does, Hux’s eyes flicker to his hand on his saber. He doesn’t move it – that would be suspicious. Even in these companionable moments, Hux is still so on edge, waiting for some attack that will not come. Kylo would like to press more calm into Hux, but since Hux decidedly did not like the experience, the last time Kylo tried, he doesn’t try to now, and he certainly wouldn’t try to now without asking _permission_ first.

He wonders if all successful First Order military personnel are paranoid as Hux is. Kylo doesn’t much care about anyone else, but he certainly does wish that Hux’s paranoia would leave him be, give him some peace. He deserves it.

Then again, perhaps it is Hux’s paranoia that has kept him alive, and for that, Kylo would be eternally grateful to it, no matter how many sleepless cycles it’s caused.

He thinks to himself that one day, he and Hux will live in a time and place where there is no need for Hux’s paranoia, or fear of his father, and he will rid Hux of all his fear. He will tame every unruly Force sensitive fiber in his body, and spend a lifetime repairing invisible wounds on Hux, until Hux is relaxed, calm, and can experience happiness without thinking it will be followed by pain.

“I don’t call Naos Haas by his title, because I don’t want him to think I respect any degree of authority he has miraculously obtained,” Kylo continues, “I use his first name to make him feel seen – seen in a way he does not want to be seen by me, and then his last name, his family name, to remind him that he is holding the weight and responsibility of his entire family when he speaks, and in how he acts. I look down on him, and say ‘Naos Haas,’ and he is reminded that he is just another person – not some dangerous creature with real power, and he is reminded that more eyes are upon him than just my own. His ancestors, his present family – the eyes of the future. He fights the fear I instill in him, but it is present still, as it should be.”

“Fascinating,” Hux comments quietly, “You know, where I come from, it was common in the planetary culture to give a first name for fate. That is to say, your names, and their roots are indicative of your future. Linguistics in name giving is very significant where I come from.”

“What does Kylo mean, in the roots of your planet’s culture?”

Hux tucks his hands into his pockets casually and answers, “strait. Like, a channel or a narrow pass. And if you’re curious to know, Ben’s name was a full sentence.”

Kylo cocks a brow, though he knows Hux can’t see it.

“How do you mean?”

“The name ‘Ben,’ means ‘son of,’ and Solo has roots as well, a few different branches, but majorly it is recognized to mean ‘wise.’ Ben Solo, the son of wisdom. Kylo Ren, literally translated is channel ruler, but it would be expounded upon, to mean 'a channel to power.'”

“Ren? That’s what Ren means? Ruler?”

“Yes,” Hux replies, “On my planet, at least.”

“And what does your surname mean?”

“Meadow,” Hux says with a sneer, “And don’t bring up the irony of it not sounding pleasant as a name for our illusion – I see it quite clearly already.”

Kylo smirks again, looking down briefly before meeting Hux’s eyes again, though Hux still can’t see his.

“You know I want to know your first name to feel close to you, right? I would not use it to harm you.”

Ears and neck turning red, Hux looks away and mutters, “enough about names – I knew this wasn’t wise to bring up. Where were we before _Dopheld Mitaka_ interrupted us? We were at the crystal bit, I think – so, the color doesn’t mean anything?”

Kylo shakes his head negatively while they fall into their familiar pace again, “no – you find whatever crystal best suits you. It doesn’t mean anything at all. Some people use the first crystal they find without much care, others seek out specific colors.”

“And what was the case with yours?”

“I wanted red, and happened to find it on the first go,” Kylo answers, holding back more information than he means to.

They turn a corner and he notices how the passing stormtroopers no longer look in surprise when they see Hux beside him.

He is reminded of what Jardom told him – that it is strange for the crew to see Hux without Kylo beside him anymore. He feels a rush of power and joy at that knowledge – these stormtroopers don’t even look in his direction anymore, it is so commonplace for him to be with Hux, and Hux with him. So commonplace, so natural, so forged in reality, that it isn’t even worth turning their heads for as they once did.

The novelty of standing beside General Hux hasn’t worn off on Kylo, however. He is satisfied and pleased that the crew recognizes him as a fixed element in the image and idea of General Hux.

He wonders now if they will turn their heads again when Hux walks these corridors alone.

And which will be stranger; that Hux is alone, or that Hux was once, for a time, not alone?

On the subject of lightsaber construction, Hux asks exactly thirteen questions, each one more convoluted and interesting than the last - mostly about the mechanics of Kylo’s lightsaber, leaving the lore of color behind them. Kylo hasn't lied outright about the colors not meaning anything, but there is more he could say on the matter. He's just not sure how to now.

During their breakfast, Captain Phasma arrives. She is exuding impatience, and Kylo can sense her blaming _him_ for it. He still hasn’t removed his mask, and Hux has not said anything about it yet. He doesn't know what to make of that.

“General – may I speak to you alone?”

Hux stands from the table, and excuses himself politely to Kylo - and that too rattles Kylo.

Hux once regarded Kylo as lesser than an animal – certainly unworthy of being apologetic towards, and for something so meaningless as having to step away from the table? He wonders when that changed – what cycle was it that Hux began to think of Kylo as some _one_ rather than some _thing_?

He remembers how Hux laughed loudly on the control bridge so many cycles before, and how Kylo’s response to that sound had been fear.

So strange now, that he still wants to hear it. He wants to hear Hux laugh again – he wants to _be_ what makes Hux laugh. And still, there is fear low in his chest, a fluttering, an uneasiness, and a thrill like a free fall.

 _I want to bring happiness to him rather than destruction_ , Kylo realizes, _T_ _hat is where my fear is coming from. I want to bring Hux happiness. I have no tools with which to do this._

More than that, the desire is foreign and unnerving. He is familiar with the desire to please a superior, the desire for recognition and admiration – but he has never wanted to give without the thought of receiving something in return.

The giving of the happiness _is_ his reward – it is one in the same with Hux, and that is something Kylo has never known before.

He has never had tools to build happiness, though – for himself or anyone else. He has only had weapons to destroy what might cause pain, powers to protect from things more painful than he, himself, is.

He wonders if that is good enough.

It doesn’t feel like it is.

Feeling restless, he stands and walks toward the closed door. He listens to the conversation in the hall, already in progress.

“ – cycles? Have you gone mad? Is he… has he done something to your mind?”

“What?” Hux asks nearly incredulously, “No – don’t be ridiculous. Ren has spent more time and energy towards curing me of ailments and anxieties than any living person has dared to try. He used himself as a human shield for me at the gala, Phasma. Haven’t you noticed his calm? He hardly throws tantrums anymore – he seems bored with the idea of ruining my day, much less my mind. He has asked me for three cycles and so, three cycles he will have.”

“Three – General, I understand that you’ve come to…”

There’s a pause in conversation and the air is tense.

Kylo thinks that perhaps Phasma has her helmet off – he senses that they are exchanging facial expressions.

“…to recognize Kylo Ren as an ally, but this is – you are what keeps this ship and fleet running. In losing Starkiller, the fleet needs your presence now more than ever. Three cycles is too much.”

“The fleet can survive three cycles without my watchful eye, Phasma – besides, you are more than competent enough to work in my stead.”

There is a pause.

Kylo blankets himself over their shared consciousness – Phasma is uneasy, thinking of arguing further but knowing that once Hux has come to a decision, he is an immovable object. Hux, inexplicably, is thinking about the Angels on Naalol. Kylo wonders if he should take Hux there again before he leaves. He wonders why Hux is thinking of the Angels at a time like this.

“What am I supposed to tell the Commandant?”

“Oh, can’t you just tell him I died at the gala or something?”

“ _Hux_ ,” Phasma sighs long-sufferingly – it is the most informal Kylo has ever heard her be with him, “… are you going to be alright when he leaves?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

There is another pause, but it’s heavier. The brimming of it, and its significance pushes back on Kylo’s energy as if the interaction transpiring between Phasma and Hux now is sentient and knows it’s meant to keep itself secret.

“I owe you everything that I am, Hux. We have known each other too long for this sort of nonsense.”

 _How long has Phasma known Hux?_ Kylo wonders, not for the first time.

“What happened at combat training – if I had been just ten minutes late –"

“I know.”

Hux’s response is clipped and there’s a flare from him, but it’s weak and weighted. Kylo bites the inside of his cheek and shuts his eyes, focusing on patience. As much as he wants to delve into their memories and understand this interaction, he knows he can’t. He won’t.

“That’s not… I know. I understand your concerns. They are unnecessary. I don’t have any desire to dismiss you – you know I take your concerns very seriously. And I couldn’t – even if I wanted to. It’s as you said; the First Order needs me now more than ever.”

A terrible sadness mixes with Phasma’s energies, and she replies softly, “there is more than that, you know.”

“Yes, I do know. And it’s in the other room waiting for me. So, are we done here?”

Another pregnant pause.

Kylo isn’t fond of being called 'it,' but he’s much more interested in what he has to do with this conversation at all. There is hunger again – the type he warned Snoke about. How he hears Hux speak, and only wants to hear more, he learns something about Hux, and can only think of somehow coming to know more. And he could take these things – he could grip Hux’s mind and unravel his memories, flip through his being like a book, but he won’t. Hux trusts him not to.

That thought leads him to think that Hux wouldn’t like him eavesdropping.

He pulls his mind from outside the room and sits down at the table again. He takes his lightsaber from its holster and examines it as a distraction – all of the scratches on the handle, the dark wear in the silver where his hands have clasped onto it countless times. He imagines Hux again, with his own lightsaber.

He imagines Hux in robes like his own – but they would be neater, tighter, cleaner. Hux is too dignified to imagine him in anything other than regal or militant clothing.

Kylo imagines how that blue lightsaber might glow against Hux’s skin, how even its shine and buzzing life could not compare to the electrifying blue of Hux’s eyes. Then he imagines Hux wielding a red lightsaber, like his own.

A black hilt would probably be Hux’s choice – he’d say that it’s practical and would argue that it hides well in camouflage against his clothes. The red glow would accentuate the darker shades of auburn in Hux’s hair, and with his pale face smattered with blood of shared enemies, the luminous scarlet would contrast beautifully with Hux’s skin.

A vision strikes Kylo, then – it’s that green lightsaber again.

He can sense danger collapsing around him like a fallen temple, a juggernaut of power building and coming at him from all angles. The unfamiliar saber glides through the air, and it bears down great weight against a red lightsaber – his own. He can tell by the way it crackles and spits like a wildfire.

He senses Hux. He senses that Hux is unsafe. Something ignites somewhere, and then the vision is gone as quickly as it came.

“Sorry about that,” Hux apologizes as he re-enters the room, “I hate to keep people waiting. Time occasionally gets away from me when I talk with Phasma. Looks like I’ll be free for the next three cycles, though.”

He sits down next to Kylo, blissfully unaware.

“Ren? Is everything alright?”

“I chose red because I read somewhere once that it was the color of passion,” Kylo admits, removing his mask finally.

He plants it on the table, and doesn’t dare to look at Hux.

He needs time to breathe – he needs cool air to hit his face. He needs to breathe more deeply than his mask allows, anyway.

He looks down at the hilt of his saber in his lap, and says, “I read that dark shades of red can represent energy, willpower, rage, leadership, courage, longing, and something yet unsolved.”

Turning the hilt over in his hands, he says down to it, “that color encompassed me. I thought that if I could build my lightsaber – hold that red crystal in my hands, that perhaps I would solve myself, and find peace. Perhaps my rage would subside, my longing would fad,e or I would feel some surge of courage that would clarify all that was muddy to me, then. When I found my crystal, I held it between my palms, and I shut my eyes, searching for a vision, or anything the Force would offer me. And do you know what I saw?”

“I can’t imagine,” Hux responds gently, softly.

Kylo takes a deep breath and manages to look at Hux’s face.

“I saw red hair.”

Hux’s brows pull in, and Kylo smirks, “I was only thirteen standard years old at the time. Hadn’t a single clue what that meant. You are the only person I have met with red hair, and you are a great leader – you have a bottomless well of energy in you, courage to stare your demons in the eyes and dare them to challenge you first. Your rage is palpable when it flares, you’ve a strength of will I’ve never before seen – I’m rather certain you held Starkiller base together long enough to find me through pure strength of will alone, actually.”

Hux’s eyes flicker across Kylo’s face, and Kylo wonders what his eyes are giving away. He wonders if Hux is reading him like he reads his subordinates, like he reads his young officers before assigning them roles they will unknowingly play out on a stage they do not realize they are on.

“Despite your energies put towards Stoicism, you long for things – I can sense it. I cannot sense what it is you long for, but I sense that the longing has been with you since you could first remember feeling anything. Perhaps longing _was_ the first thing you ever felt at all. And to me, and the galaxy at large, you are an enigma. I have come to believe that the Force lead me to that crystal so that I might catch that glimpse of you.”

There is a shift in Hux’s heart rate. It’s not faster, really, but it’s harder and louder. His jugular is bouncing against his skin. Kylo has a bizarre desire to bite into the flesh there, to suck a bruise and pull the blood to the surface, to lick over that skin and feel Hux’s blood course under his tongue like the beating of a familiar drum.

He’s staring at Hux’s neck again - this is becoming a bad habit.

He looks up into Hux’s eyes, and explains, “the Force lead you to me on Starkiller when I did not want to be found, and I think that it too lead me to you when I did not realize I was seeking the company of someone with red hair.”

Hux looks like he wants to laugh at that, but Kylo’s tone of voice is too solemn.

“My lightsaber has taught me more about you than it ever has about myself.”

There is some quiet that falls between them, and Hux only breaks it to ask almost bashfully, “have you ever told that to anyone?”

“No,” Kylo answers readily, “Luke Skywalker asked – as most Force sensitive children have some sort of vision or feeling upon finding their crystal. Ben Solo told him he saw nothing, and Luke Skywalker knew he was lying, but did not press him for more information. When I met you, I remembered that vision, but I was reluctant to believe the Force had foretold me about you. I did not think our fates would be so entwined, but I understand now, why the Force granted me that glimpse of you.”

He feels Hux’s heart throb as if it were in his own chest.

“And red hair?” Hux asks “That’s all you saw?”

“It was your face at an angle,” Kylo expounds, “I could see your left ear, the line of your brow to your cheek, to your chin and neck, and I could see the red of your eyelashes. Just a sliver of your nose as well – it was as if you were turning your head toward me, like I was standing just behind you. Your hair is striking, though, and that more than anything else in the vision is what stayed with me.”

“I wish I had such a thing to hold onto,” Hux admits, looking down at his unfinished plate, “I was a lonely child. I often had make-believe friends – what do children call them?”

“Imaginary,” Kylo tells him sadly.

“Right – those. Imaginary friends. When the droids that looked after me reported back to my father that I often spoke to empty spaces, I would be punished for every interaction I had with them. So, I began to pretend that we could only speak to each other telepathically.”

Kylo’s brows spring up, “that’s why you used to hate when I spoke directly into your head, isn’t it?”

“It is,” Hux answers honestly, smiling sardonically, “It reminded me of a darker, more pathetic era of my life. Emotional loneliness is so distressing for children, and in most cases, they’ll just do whatever they need to in order to make some sort of human connection, but I had no humans to interact with. Children react to this loneliness, majorly, in two different ways. The first, through tantrums – this has to do with the development of the prefrontal cortex.”

Kylo is a little shocked that Hux hasn’t taken this opportunity to criticize him on his temper, so he leans in closer as a show of further interest. He watches Hux’s lips while he speaks, unable to stop himself.

“The prefrontal cortex isn’t fully developed in humans until they’re around eighteen standard years old. Children too small, and helpless to express what they need, or want, thrash about and scream instead – without that solidified prefrontal cortex, it is all they can do to communicate distress. But I did not act out in tantrums. I took a different path.”

Hux leans back in his seat, toying with the hem of his jacket, “the quiet children – the ones that ignore the fight-or-flight signals from their underdeveloped brains – they learn to put other people’s needs first. Instead of expecting others to provide support, or show any interest in them, they put all their efforts toward convincing everyone that they have few emotional needs of their own. That they are low-maintenance. This only leads to more loneliness, though. If you cannot express your needs – like one for companionship, no matter how pathetic it is – it will not be met. I did try, once, though. To express my needs.”

“To who?” Kylo asks, knowing that this story is unlikely to have a happy ending.

“One of the droids that looked after me. It had fairly advanced social knowledge and for a standard year, from the time I was nine until I was ten, that droid was my sole companion in the galaxy. Visiting from school, Brendol saw the droid wake itself up one evening, though, to come visit me – it would read me stories, taught me to draw, conversed with me until I could sleep. He told our father about the oddity and as punishment, he did not deny me my droid. No, he sent it back to me after he wiped the droid’s memory of me entirely.”

That enormous dining table Kylo once saw in Hux’s memories would have been destroyed by Kylo in the wake of such treatment. He would have punched holes in the walls, the chandeliers of Hux’s childhood mansion would have exploded in his rage, he would have screamed and cried, cursed at his mother, attacked his father – the entire estate would have crumbled under Kylo’s rage, had he been the one to experience what Hux describes.

For what seems like the millionth time, Kylo wishes Hux were Force sensitive, if only so that this story might end with Hux explaining that without so much as lifting a finger, he lit his brother and father aflame. That he was avenged, somehow.

“What did you do?”

“Hmm?” Hux asks, looking up from his lap, as if he'd been distracted with the memories, “Nothing. There was nothing _to_ do. The droid had forgotten me, and that is how relationships are formed – memories. Shared memories and experiences. With only one set of memories, I was alone again. Brendol apologized to me much later – he said he hadn’t known what our father would do, but I think otherwise. Brendol was not treated with much more kindness than I was. I think he knew what would happen.”

Hux sigh,s and adds as he looks away, “if I had a vision – a vision as you described, just a glimpse of a person, the feeling that I might meet them someday… perhaps that would have prevented unnecessarily prolonged suffering.”

“Can I ask you something very personal, Hux?”

Looking back to Kylo, openly intrigued, Hux nods.

“Certainly.”

“Did he suffer?” Kylo begins, his fingers needing more circulation than his fists are allowing, “When you killed Brendol, did he suffer?”

This question apparently surprises Hux.

He watches Kylo’s expression very closely, assessing, when he answers, “yes. He did.”

“Good.”

A silence blankets them again, and while it’s warm, there is anger and loathing keeping it ablaze – it’s just that now, the anger and loathing are no longer directed at each other.

Kylo breathes in deeply and exhales slowly, shutting his eyes and swearing to himself that no matter what visions come to him, he will protect Hux.

He thinks that he and Hux have committed many crimes, and much of the galaxy would like for them to serve some sort of sentence for those crimes.

Kylo is beginning to believe, however, that some men serve their sentences before their crimes are ever committed.

Kylo is beginning to believe that Hux has suffered long enough. That he has been alone long enough, silent long enough, fearful and paranoid long enough.

His punishment came long before his crimes and as far as Kylo is concerned, he’s happy to allow the galaxy to blame itself for the deaths that came at Hux’s command.

“You know, you would make a fine Emperor, Hux.”

Hux’s cheeks turn reddish, and the endearing sight cools some of the fury in Kylo’s blood.

“You flatter me, Ren.”

Kylo’s head lifts up and he meets Hux’s stare. Hux is smirking at him – he has meant to repeat Kylo’s words to him. This is a joke – it is something friendly, something extended to him. It is meant to make him smile.

And he does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are you all ready to see these Very Serious men misuse the Force for shits and giggles? Because that's what you have to look forward to in the upcoming installments. Hope you enjoy this one! ;D


	3. Chapter 3

“Him.”

“Why him?”

“Why do I need a reason?”

Kylo smirks, resting his elbow on the railing where he and Hux overlook the control bridge. He puts his face in his palm, and says, “you don’t need one. I’m just curious.”

Hux holds his waist, glaring down at the unsuspecting officer.

“I had him demoted after he went over my head to my father’s authority to complain about ‘unfair treatment,’” Hux explains with a roll of his eyes that nearly looks painful, “His evidence being that I openly favored Phasma over all of my other officers and subordinates. Just another self-righteous idiot that wanted more of my attention and wasn’t getting it. Gave me a headache of a conference with the Commandant, though.”

“It _is_ terribly frustrating to want your attention and not get it,” Kylo empathizes.

Hux cocks his hip to the side, crossing his arms over his chest, “well, can you do it?”

“Of course I can. Just tell me when.”

Contemplating this for a few moments, Hux stares down at the bridge, notes where Phasma is walking – Nali is beside her, and they are all unaware they’re being watched from above.

Kylo’s attention drifts from Hux’s profile down to where he sees Nali wave to Jardom who stumbles and nearly trips in response. Kylo can sense Nali’s infatuation with him – she likes that she has a degree of control over this boy and he seems to reciprocate that. Or he, at least, understands that the control she has over him is very apparent, and he’s willing to let it show. He admires her power, and she basks in his admiration. There is a sincere concern and care for one another present as well.

She smiles at him, and Jardom smiles back, holding tightly at the holopad he came so close to dropping when he stumbled. When she walks past his station, he watches her figure as she goes by. Feeling immediately defensive, Kylo infiltrates Jardom’s mind, ready to play a cruel prank on him if he were objectifying Nali, but he does not find Jardom’s attention focused on his sexual attraction to her.

He is watching the shine of her dark hair, and thinking that she smells floral whenever she walks by.

Pleased with Jardom’s gentlemanly thoughts, Kylo pulls his mind back and looks at Hux again.

Hux looks back at him and says, “now.”

Kylo zeroes in on an officer near one of the viewport seats. He’s human, fallible as any other and Kylo can admit that they obviously share something in common; the want for Hux’s attention. But where this man has nothing to offer Hux, Kylo will do anything and everything asked of him and so he inserts himself into this man’s occipital lobe and starts toying with his sensory processing. He stimulates some of the motor sections and with just a small push of the Force, he has the man bursting out in hysterical, high-pitched laughter.

Hux’s eyes light up and his energy brightens considerably. Kylo keeps a hand outstretched towards this stranger, forcing his laughter to grow louder and more disruptive. His face is troubled – he doesn’t understand why he’s laughing or why he can’t control himself. Phasma starts shouting at him and all of the officers around him back away from him like he might have a virus.

Hux covers his mouth to hide his grin, but his shoulders are high and his uniform is lax and Kylo is intent on making him laugh. He allows the man enough air to try to tell Phasma that he can’t stop laughing and doesn’t know what’s happening to him. He also gets the officer to tell Phasma that her cape is atrocious.

There’s a blaster to his head not a second later, he’s crying and laughing and terrified and confused and Hux is positively gleeful next to Kylo. Kylo couldn’t care less about this officer, but seeing how much joy his torment brings Hux, he’d be glad to torture this unsuspecting man forever. Phasma is about to pull the trigger when she starts looking around. She doesn’t look up, however.

“Lord Kylo Ren and General Hux – if you are on the control bridge right now making this scene, there will be Hell to pay!”

And there it is – Hux’s conspiratorial, giddy laughter. He grabs Kylo’s extended hand, breaking his control over the officer and says in a hushed, but excited and lively voice, “shh! Don’t let her know! Let’s go to the hangars!”

Kylo doesn’t reply, he just allows Hux to twine their hands and drag them both through mostly empty halls, down to the hangars. Even down the hall from the control bridge, they can hear Phasma cursing them and the tortured officer begging for mercy. Kylo’s palm tingles against Hux’s – Hux’s skin against his own is a special sensory experience unlike any other. Hux’s laughter too is like music to him.

He feels honored to be orchestrating it.

After breakfast, Hux insisted on getting payback for past mistreatments and put Kylo in charge of seeing his vengeance through. Several engineers were made illiterate for about an hour – sending them into panicked frenzies, which Hux grinned over and clapped Kylo’s back in appreciation for. Two technicians on board gave Hux lip way back on the _Finalizer_ and Kylo congratulated Hux on his ability to hold onto grudges so long.

Hux replied only, “oh, you have no idea.”

Kylo gave them an illusion of their work stations catching fire – they properly used extinguishers, but as there was no fire, they really only ended up damaging panels and wirings they’d spent long cycles working tirelessly on. Hux made a scene of yelling at them, insisting there was no fire, what “sort of morons” were they and they were on permanent double-shifts until those panels were repaired to perfection.

Then came the control bridge and now Kylo found himself overlooking one of the hangars where Haas is hard at work. He looks at Hux, as if to ask for direction. Hux shrugs and says, “do as you please, Ren. You wanted to harass the poor boy, he is yours for the taking.”

Kylo frowns, “don’t say it like that. I don’t want to _take_ him.”

Unimpressed, Hux sits down on the catwalk, looking past the thin bars that hold up the railing and down onto his many pilots and engineers. Kylo wonders what it must be like for Hux to see his fleet at work – all of those lives under his control. All of those lives lined up to die for him, all of those lives clamoring for his attention, his seal of approval, his good word. It must be different than Kylo and his Knights. Kylo is unsure why that’s true, it just is.

Hux pretzels his legs and leans his forearms forward onto his knees. He is watching Haas closely.

“Trip him.”

“What?”

Sitting up straighter, Hux tilts his head up to look at Kylo.

The shift in position gives Kylo an undisturbed view of the stretch of Hux’s neck. Hux is tall – even sitting down, his face is nearly at Kylo’s waist.

That proximity is dangerous.

Images cross Kylo’s mind – images similar to the ones he has seen in Haas’s head when thinking of Hux. That makes him feel shameful, and so he changes the trajectory of those fantasies – rather than being on a receiving end, being the one to give. He imagines Hux standing in his place, kneeling before Hux the way Hux seems to like him doing, but won’t disclose why. He wonders what it might feel like to run his hands up Hux’s thighs, to press into his narrow hips.

That damnable vision comes again – he can see loose, red hair in flashes, see his own hands sliding up a thin frame, and he _knows_ it’s Hux, he can feel Hux’s energy, feel Hux’s pleasure like it’s his own, doubling his experience and making him dizzy, and he can hear Hux. He can hear Hux sighing, gasping, making a small laugh like he’s overcome with joy, or he’s delirious, or he’s surprised, or maybe all at once and then – _“ **Ren** –"_

“Ren?”

“What?”

Hux’s forehead pinches worriedly.

“Trip the boy.”

Bashfully, Kylo looks away from Hux, feeling that his face is hot. Earlier, he resolved to leave his mask in Hux’s quarters for the work cycle – he can’t remember why it seemed like a good idea at the time. He was thinking about something stupidly sentimental, about allowing Hux to see his eyes. He wants that mask more than anything at this moment, though.

He focuses his energy down onto Haas, who is typing something onto a holopad. Tripping him elicits a humored snort from Hux and a loud clattering sound on the ground. Kylo looks back to Hux to see if he’s pleased, and he’s caught off-guard to find Hux already staring at him.

“More.”

_“ **More** –" – it’s gasped, it's a raspy, low tone borne from Hux’s exposed and bruised throat – _

“If I trip everyone in the hangar at once, I think they might catch on.”

With his usual, sardonic charm, Hux smirks and leans back on his palms.

This pose is somehow worse.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Ren. I mean – pull on his pigtails more. Flip his cap off.”

Kylo looks back down and he waits a few more minutes before following Hux’s order. Haas gets exasperated and annoyed so quickly – Kylo admits he’s pleased to annoy Haas. And he does use the Force to annoy him further.

He turns the power out in the hangar for fifteen minutes, delaying work and frustrating Haas when no one can find anything wrong with their generator.

He makes Haas bump his forehead on the wing of a TIE-fighter.

He flips up Haas’s uniform jacket, making him twist around defensively, sure he is being mocked.

He sends a wave of energy to the back of Haas’s knees too, sending him tumbling dramatically.

He pushes Haas into three different officers with invisible shoves, creates a buzzing sound that won’t stop going by his left ear (that one in particular is fun to watch – Hux chuckles every single time Haas swats at nothing) and sends poking sensations to the back of Haas’s head, to his sides, his chest (Haas’s rage is tangible) and the bottoms of his feet.

Only encouraged by Hux, Kylo turns on five different jets without pilots in them, nearly getting an engineer killed. When he looks at Hux, the General shrugs, and says loftily, “I don’t care for the man much – don’t worry yourself.”

Kylo goes onto rearrange all of the displayed blueprints from Haas’s desk – which results in shrill shouting, where he is adamant that someone came into his office and toyed with his work. That’s when Kylo crouches down next to Hux on the floor, and they both cover their smiles and try to keep themselves quiet.

When Haas sits at his office chair, Kylo makes it spin lazily, but unstoppably. When Haas manages to jump off it and look at it like it might be possessed, Kylo makes it come to a stop. As soon as Haas tries to sit on it again, he sends it spinning more quickly, and both Kylo and Hux hide further in the shadows of the overlooking bridge when Haas gets up again in a fury.

“What is going on today!?” Haas yells in a rage, “Which one of you has been screwing with my things today!? Surrender yourself and I might consider showing you some mercy!”

Hux laughs and hides his face in his hands.

Kylo turns his head to look at Hux and there Hux is, shoulders high and shaking, face hidden away, cheeks rosy and he thinks to himself that Hux isn’t all that nice.

No – General Hux is not a nice man. He doesn’t seem to care much about whether others that worship, adore, and obey him, live or die, he derives joy from the pain and terrorism of others, he can’t stand being wrong about anything, and he’s a thousand other things Ben Solo’s mother warned him to stay away from.

Why, then, should he delight in Hux’s every word and movement? What is so wrong with Kylo that he thinks of General A. Hux and feels smooth, summer warmth spread through his chest and blossom like made-up flowers that are never out of season? What mind trick has Hux played on Kylo that all of Kylo’s blood pools, spins, and boils for him?

Hux finally looks up from his hands, smirking devilishly.

“You know he wants to sleep with you, right?”

The mirth in Hux's expression dies a little, and he shrugs, “he doesn’t exactly go out of his way to hide it.”

“Why don’t you punish him for thinking of you so inappropriately?”

“I suppose I don’t mind it all that much.”

Kylo’s heart sinks.

That wasn’t the response he wanted.

“How can you not mind him objectifying you?”

“ _Sexualizing_ me, you mean,” Hux corrects, crossing his arms over his knees, “Haas does not think of me as an object – he doesn’t dehumanize me. _That’s_ objectification. No – Haas worships me. Many of my subordinates find themselves attracted to me, but it has little to do with me and much more to do with power.”

Kylo tilts his head, “how do you mean?”

“I understand it in a way,” Hux says, looking away, and back out towards the hangar, “I’m their superior. Fraternization is, in and of itself, scandalous – it’s dangerous, thrilling for them. And I am not blind – I know I stand as an icon of power. That I might care so deeply about one of them, or want one of them _so badly_ I cannot keep my hands to myself, despite my decades of discipline – stripping me of my power through sheer _want_ – that’s where the fantasy lies. To be in a position of power over someone so mighty, of unraveling someone that seems so tightly placed together can be a heady fantasy.”

“Unraveling?”

“Ah,” Hux says with a little, humorless laugh, “that’s right – you’re untouched.”

Kylo glares at Hux’s profile.

_Mind your tone, Hux. I’m not a child._

_You may as well be._

“To watch someone in the throes of such intimate pleasure – it is to see them at their most base, their most animal selves,” Hux continues before Kylo can complain about being insulted, “For most, there is much more to sex than neurons firing, oxytocin, and dopamine production. It can be a spiritual experience for many. Psychologically, emotionally, and spiritually satisfying. Have you ever wanted someone, Ren?”

The silence is much shorter than it feels.

It’s still long enough that Hux turns to look at him again.

“No.”

The energy around Hux changes, his aura dampens, darkens, and he struggles to look Kylo in the eyes. Kylo can’t tell if this is because Hux senses that Kylo is lying to him and is offended, or if he is somehow disappointed.

Hux is too sharp a man to confess to, though – if Kylo told him the truth, he is sure Hux would be curious as to who caught his attentions. Hux is unafraid to ask questions. And as Hux said; he is not blind. He is certainly being willfully ignorant about Kylo – that much he is sure of, but if he were to have answered that question honestly, there is a chance Hux would not allow him to stay in his quarters for the remaining cycles.

If he had answered honestly, there’s a chance Hux would have been disgusted with him, or put him in the same school as Haas and Krin and these other power-hungry, greedy, mindless fools.

There is a good chance Kylo will never return to _Aurora_. Or General Hux. He may not even fight alongside the fleet of the First Order again – wherever he goes, whatever Master Snoke commands of him next, it is unlikely to bring him back here.

These last cycles are too precious to squander. He has all of Hux’s attention – Hux is talking to him, thinking of him, looking at him, and him only. That is what he wants. More than anything, this feeling of having Hux’s undivided self entirely focused on him, sharp, and burning as a laser, as much a torture as it is a pleasure – that’s what he wants.

“Well,” Hux begins, voice lower and a little softer than before, “there is little to understand about it if you have never experienced even desire for it. And I’m probably not the best authority on educating anyone about base desires. Anyway, I don’t mind Haas’s infatuation with me. I might admit I even encourage it.”

“What?” Kylo asks, an unexpected blow of betrayal washing over him, “Why?”

Hux shrugs again, his eyes sort of faraway, “it’s nice. To be wanted.”

_Why is this hurting so much?_

There’s another quiet, joyless laugh, and Hux adds, “and particularly by someone so young – that’s always a good ego boost. Good to know I haven’t aged like my father has.”

Temper rising inexplicably, Kylo asks, “and what of Chan-na Krin? You were just – you were going to adhere to her blackmail if I hadn’t been there. Do you take pleasure in her want as well?”

“My, Ren,” Hux simpers, “No need for the claws to come out. Your virtue might be in tact, but mine is long gone and I’ve no desire to get it back. Besides, if Krin won’t be convinced otherwise, I _will_ sleep with her for the funding. I’ve killed, tortured, and sent honest men on suicide missions for much less, Ren. Fucking a woman in the name of the First Order is not the most sinful act I’ll have committed.”

Kylo stands up, everything in him feeling too hot and strangled.

Hux stares up at him, face unreadable.

“Seems I’ve offended you. Care to explain how?”

“No,” Kylo grinds out between his teeth.

As if Kylo is the one being highly unreasonable, Hux sighs tiredly, and stands up, dusting off his pants and coat, despite them being perfect, as always.

“Do you not – do you not care who you have this experience with?” Kylo interrogates, unwilling and unable to look Hux in the face, “Do you not care about your body? About the psychological, emotional, and spiritual elements you spoke of?”

“I’ve never experienced love-making, Ren.”

Kylo swallows something like molten lava, and waits for Hux to expound, which he does without prompting, thankfully.

“I don’t believe in spirits, you know that. We’re just a culmination of memories formed through experiences of time – memories are the building blocks on which our reactions to outside stimuli are built, and thus our behaviors, which determine our personalities, form. There is no soul. No spirit. That’s all – it’s nonsense. No matter what ghosts you’ve claimed to see.”

That has Kylo turning around to glare at Hux; he despises when Hux invalidates his powers, and Hux knows this too.

“Psychology – that is _my_ territory, and anyone who thinks they’ve the upper-hand in a sexual encounter with me is sorely mistaken. I am strategic to the end – if I’m fucking someone, there is something to be gained from it.”

“What about Croeta’s wife?”

Hux stiffens up.

“What about her?”

“You told me there was no strategy there – you just did as she asked. You felt mercy for her.”

“I was twenty-three and hadn’t gotten laid since the Academy, I assure you, it was one lapse in judgment, and it never occurred again,” Hux argues, looking a little shaken - there's a lie somewhere in there, a lie about the Academy, maybe, but Kylo can't go digging.

“And the emotional?” Kylo asks, taking a step towards Hux, “You feel nothing?”

“If you mean to ask me if I’ve felt desire,” Hux begins lowly, “I have. Contrary to popular belief, I am actually a living, breathing person. The sexual acts themselves? They don’t inspire me, Ren. They don’t do – I don’t feel – I have never _made love_ , Ren. That’s all I’m saying. Love-making is supposed to be this groundbreaking –"

_Kylo’s hair draping around Hux’s face like dark curtains – Hux’s nails clawing down his back, the room shaking and shifting, Hux gasping –_

“ – awe-inspiring –"

_Hux’s kiss-swollen lips opening on a silent cry, his brows pulled in tight, his eyes shut – tears blooming between his wet, thick lashes, “ **Kylo** –"_

“ – cosmic, incredible _joining_.”

Kylo shuts his eyes.

He welcomes the visions.

He doesn’t care what they are. Visions, fantasies – he doesn’t care anymore. He wants to see. He wants to imagine. He wants to believe.

_Hux’s hands framing his face, looking up at him with glassy, reflective, and beautiful eyes – Kylo might tell Hux he’s beautiful, and Hux is shaking his head, his cheeks so red, his lashes stuck together, his hair going in every direction, and the way he **looks** into Kylo’s eyes – _

“I’ve never felt something like that, Ren. I don’t think it’s real. I think it’s what poets and romantics desperately wish true enough that they feel these things they can’t explain, so they call it spiritual, they call it love-making, but it’s just sex.”

_That **look** – when those shocking blue eyes open up to him, Kylo’s heart is loud and hard and so is Hux’s and Hux wants Kylo closer, but he can’t possibly be any closer than he is and maybe Hux says it out loud – maybe he thinks it, and Kylo has their minds wrapped around one another and he hears it there, but he can hear it, crystal clear, like Hux were saying it right now, “Kylo… you look like a dark Angel,” and there’s a wish from somewhere deep – something clawing, something forlorn, but urgent, and wild, and ethereal all at once, and it’s coming from Hux. And it’s coming from Kylo too. And they both feel it in each other – twisted, tangled souls unraveling like spiral galaxies to dance around one another, tear each other apart and create something more than themselves._

“Really, Ren. It’s just sex.”

Kylo wants to believe.

He wants to believe he can give that to Hux.

He opens his eyes, thinking he might see the eyes of the Hux from his mind, but he doesn’t – he finds the Hux he knows, standing before him looking defiant and put-out. He searches Hux’s eyes for any trace that the universe has offered him some sort of premonition too. It hasn’t, of course.

Maybe Kylo is losing his mind. Maybe Hux has taken it – maybe Hux has stolen his sanity along with all his dignity, reserves, and long-held beliefs. Maybe none of what plays across the screen of his mind is real.

But he wants it to be.

Maybe he’s a poet, maybe he’s a romantic, and Hux has made him this way. Maybe Hux sculpted him this way as he has sculpted so many minds before him. Maybe Hux doesn’t just derive joy from the torment of his underlings, but in the torture he can inflict upon Kylo with just a single glance.

Nothing good can come of this.

Kylo knows this, deep in his soul, he knows this. He warned Snoke. He warned _himself_. He looks upon General Hux and he feels – he feels _too much_. And that has always been his downfall and he should run from Hux. He should tell Snoke he’s ready to leave right now, and go without ever looking back. He is in deep waters now – too deep and too dark to see anything but the scarlet of his own blood bubbling up to the surface, and the perfect shimmer of Hux’s eyes as he pulls him down deeper.

_You should have left me on Starkiller._

Hux pales and his eyes widen, “what?”

Hurriedly, Kylo mutters, “never mind – I should –"

There’s a wave of electricity and astonishment at the force with which Hux grabs Kylo’s arm and twists him around.

“The Hells did you just say to me?”

“I didn’t _say_ anything.”

Hux’s scowl turns dangerous, heated – this isn’t funny to him, he won't take it lightly and he won't drop the subject. Kylo knows that, and he doesn’t mean for it to be funny. He’s in searing pain and torment; the fibers of his being are ripping at the seams, and it has nothing to do with the Light or the Dark, and all to do with General Hux.

“How could you – how could you fucking say that to me!?” Hux demands to know, “What? You think all of your Force magic spiritual bullshit can’t be disproven with hard, cold science? You think all these moronic, romantic notions you pray and meditate over have nothing to do with basic neurological chemicals? You think – you think I’m some common idiot that will allow for you to spit in the face of my sacrifice?”

“What exactly did you sacrifice?”

Hux lets go of Kylo’s arm and takes a step backward.

“I can’t believe you’d say something like that to me.”

“Really?” Kylo asks, despondent because his feelings have become hypothermic – so intense, they’re just numbing now, “You _can’t_ believe I’d say something like that? That’s _unbelievable_ to you?”

“You’re a trap.”

That phrase resounding in his head like an echo pulls Kylo back to the surface of himself – he is feeling too much, but so be it. He won’t leave Hux. He won’t betray him. He can control himself. He is above this – above whatever it is Hux has done, undone, redone – whatever the Hells Hux has made of his heart, mind, and soul. He can withstand the pain and imbalance. He must.

“No. No – I’m not –"

“You are,” Hux interrupts, pointing an accusing finger, “You are the most unbalanced, erratic, maddening man I’ve ever crossed paths with and believe me, that is _really_ saying something. But you present yourself to me like a rose hiding all it’s thorns until I just try to make any sort of contact and then you _turn_ on me.”

Kylo looks down at his boots, sees Haas exiting his office. Feels lost. Wanting so much, never knowing if he has a grasp at all, or if it’s sand through his fingers.

“I took three damn cycles off for you – because you _asked me_ , Ren. You _asked_ for my time, my attention, and when I give it to you? You thank me by letting me know you’d rather be a burnt corpse on a broken mass weapon floating out in space, than be here with me because I’ve _what_? Insulted your _delicate sensibilities_?”

Kylo is fairly sure that if he opens his mouth, Hux will intercept anything that he tries to say, so he stays silent.

“This is exhausting,” Hux says, holding his forehead between his thumb and forefinger, “I can’t… whatever game this is – I don’t… I’m smarter than this.”

Kylo glances up at Hux to see he’s looking off and away, like he might be talking to himself.

“I’m better than this – two battles lost out of fifty-seven lead by me. Strategy, forecasting, and protecting myself and others – this has always been my only strength. And sharpened to a fine point, it makes for a phenomenal weapon, but then _you_ come in like a fucking _cyclone_ and blow it all to shit.”

“Is that why you don’t care about what happens to your body?”

Hux’s head snaps toward him again, and Kylo allows his expression to be open – allow Hux to see whatever is there. Kylo deserves whatever comes next. Punishment, glory, silence – whatever Hux sees fit to give him.

“What?”

“You think you are a weapon? Only good for some one thing?” Kylo asks, “If you believe that – it’s untrue. That’s… that’s all. If you sleep with Krin for the funding… then, yes – you’ve done crueler things, played at higher risks. But you play the game of war like a game of chess and when you lose pawns, and rooks, and knights –"

Kylo senses Hux’s heart skip a beat.

He doesn’t linger on it. Whatever it means, he can’t analyze it now.

“ – that’s okay. That’s what they are there for. They signed their lives away to you – to your command. They should be glad they have the honor of dying while having served you at all. But you are no pawn, or rook, or knight – you deserve something finer. Something softer. For once. Don’t you agree with me?”

Hux seems unable to answer. His lips are parted a little, his face is slack, his shoulders are tense and his heart is beating at forty beats per minute, but none of that comes together in a clear picture for Kylo to make sense of.

“You wanted people, as a child – you were kept from them. Once you were introduced to people and made attachments, you found only violence, cruelty, and a different form of isolation altogether. And there was a day – some day passed that you thought you’d rather slip into oblivion, without purpose or consciousness, than continue on in the life you were leading. Your mind is so sharp – so deadly, and I… I so admire you for it. You are worthy of more, Hux. You are more than a bargaining chip. And it pains me that you cannot see yourself… that you…”

Hux’s heart has steadily risen to sixty beats per minute. His eyes give away nothing. His aura like a lightning storm.

“…that you cannot see yourself through my eyes.”

They gaze at one another for a long few beats. Hux looks unsteady and unsure – he is wary again, like Kylo is a rabid animal that might bite him. Again.

Kylo hates himself.

“I –"

“General Hux?” Haas exclaims.

Both Kylo and Hux look down over the railing to see Haas looking up at them. When he notices Kylo, his expression visibly darkens. He moves his mismatched eyes back to Hux, and his face fills with light again. He grins, and says, “I did not expect to see you today, sir! To what do I owe the honor?”

As if calculating the distance, Hux leans over the railing and stares for a beat. It’s about fifty feet down to the ground.

He looks over his shoulder at Kylo, grips the railings, and then, without a word, throws himself over.

In an immediate panic, Kylo rushes to the railing, his arm thrown nearly out of its socket in his hurry – levitating Hux in the air through a Force hold.

Seeming to levitate, maybe ten feet from the ground, Hux looks up at Kylo and instructs, “you can lower me now.”

Bewildered, Kylo just does as he is commanded and plants Hux firmly onto the ground. Hux brushes himself off again, needlessly, and then he says to Haas, “there is a woman in one of the interrogation rooms – you will go to Captain Phasma and ask to be directed there. You are to kill her and get rid of the body. Don’t float it, though – I’d like for you to send it to her home base. Let the rebel scum see what becomes of their loose radicals.”

Haas looks unsure – Kylo can sense he doesn’t want to fulfill this command. He seems to quite like being behind a desk, forming attack routines and lecturing those of lower status on engineering. He is comfortable where Hux has assigned him, and Kylo is able to assume that Haas is unpracticed in purposefully killing people.

“I, uhm… yes, sir.”

“Are you uncomfortable, Haas?” Hux asks coldly, “If you are unable to perform this task, you should alert me now. I will let Officer Vitaan take –"

“I am able, sir,” Haas interrupts angrily, heatedly, “I am… I will see it done within the hour, sir.”

Hux smiles, his hands clasped behind his back. He circles Haas a little like an animal prowling. Haas is enjoying it as much as he is terrified of it.

Kylo hates to admit it, but he can relate to the feeling.

“You know, I quite like the way you address me, Haas. Everyone calls me by my title, or ‘sir,’ but you say it with such gusto, such meaning, and spirit. Do keep up the good work, Haas. Know my eyes are never far.”

Neither Kylo nor Haas can tell if that’s a compliment or a threat.

Kylo’s heart thrums in that familiar way for Hux – how he wields this invisible power, performs mind tricks with no help from the stars. How dangerous he is with just words, with just his eyes, and posture, and poise. There is so much blood on Hux’s hands, and Kylo still wants to hold them in his own.

When Haas has parted ways with Hux, Kylo leaves the bridge, and gets to the ground floor to stand next to Hux. Hux tucks his hands into his pants’ pockets, and without looking at Kylo, he asks, “would you care to spar, Ren?”

Kylo looks at Hux, his brows drawn in, “why?”

“I should like to punch you in the face once or twice,” Hux answers casually, “Cathartic for me, you know. And I think you owe me that.”

There is no scoreboard, but if Hux says so, Kylo is inclined to believe he owes Hux something.

His own life, for one. Hux’s coat. Hux’s feeling of safety.

Perhaps he has stolen all that Hux has taken from him as well. Maybe he has stolen even more than he knows.

He wonders if Hux will ever let him know.

“By all means, lead the way, Hux.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "CHRIST OK TELL ME BEFORE YOU INITIATE A TRUST FALL" - New York Times (quoted by everowl lmao)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: there is tickling in this chapter.  
> Also, a shit ton of symbolism that will come back later. Feel free to scrutinize.  
> Enjoy the installment! <3

Easily, Hux gets more than one or two punches in.

And just as easily, Kylo starts blaming his miscalculations on distraction, seeing as the General is just letting his dog tags hang out, swinging with every twist, and twinkling in the lights. It’s not that Hux doesn’t notice, that's absurd – Hux notices _everything_. He _knows_ his tags are out, and he _knows_ that Kylo knows _he_ knows his tags are out.

It’s either a testament to how far they’ve come that Hux trusts Kylo not to try and get a look at the print on them, or it’s another test entirely.

Kylo can never really be sure.

“Are they silver or metal?” Kylo asks, dodging a vicious left-hook (one he's familiar with, as it’s already left a bruise on his jaw), “Why do your tags shine like that?”

“They’re white gold,” Hux answers breathlessly, somehow finding space and time enough to pull his arms in and thrust his leg out, kicking Kylo square in the chest, and knocking him down.

With a loud grunt, Kylo hits the ground, and rubs at his aching sternum. He stays down to signal his ultimate surrender, having lost six out of the nine spars they’ve had.

He can sense that Hux is displeased with his wandering concentration. He can’t help it, though. It’s either strained silence with a wandering mind, or a hyper-focused mind while he opens his mouth, and it all comes pouring out; it’s either he sits on the ground like a petulant child, or he gathers Hux up in his arms and… he doesn’t know what.

He doesn’t know what he’ll do, if he is forced to keep touching Hux like this.

Even in violence, touching Hux is tempting in its own way. If it’s the only way he knew how to touch Hux, he would. Life, very simply, would be easier to navigate if hurting Hux and adoring him were one in the same.

It is more painful, and more strenuous to know what it is like to touch Hux gently. It’s so much more difficult to know what it’s like to clasp Hux’s smooth-as-silk hand, and dance with him across a ballroom, to have run his fingers through Hux’s hair, to have cupped Hux’s face as he fell into a dreamless sleep. There are times Kylo wishes Hux had enforced his early hesitations and restrictions on Kylo – times he wishes Hux hadn’t let him get so close.

Because, from far away, Hux looks icy and jagged - and that’s not to say that he isn’t made of blades, and strict, wound control. But up close, past the cuts sustained from trying to get a better look at him, there is a want for ponds and blossoms. There is a contagious laughter, and a charming smile that Hux is inexplicably embarrassed by, but it’s alright because when he hides his face away, that’s endearing too.

And Hux’s secret name is engraved into white gold.

Kylo is sure no poet or romantic could have found something more befitting.

“Of course they are,” Kylo mutters to himself, reaching into his pocket for an elastic band so that he can pull his hair back.

With a huff, Hux sits down on the mat floor with Kylo, turning the tags between his spidery fingers, inspecting them as they glint.

“You look handsome like that, you know.”

Kylo pauses with his hands still behind his neck, his fingers knotted with the band. He looks up from under his brow to look at Hux, but Hux isn’t looking at him.

“You think so?” Kylo asks.

“Certainly,” Hux replies casually, “I’ve told you before how – your face… you know.”

At the uneasiness in Hux's voice, Kylo smirks. He snaps the band in place, and leans back on his palms, spreading his legs, and stretching out his feet and toes to keep them from stiffening up painfully.

“I do know. You’ve told me before. But tell me again.”

“Why should I?” Hux asks with certain knowing in his voice, “You already know.”

“I like to hear you say kind things about me.”

“They’re not kind, they’re just true.”

“Then tell me truths about myself.”

Hux’s eyes finally find his, and he stops playing with his tags. He tucks them into his grey undershirt and mimics Kylo’s pose.

His red hair is a little messy, his cheeks are a little flustered, and so is his lightly freckled chest, from what Kylo can see of it. The muscles in Hux’s arms are still pronounced, torn, and probably tired from all their sparring.

“You’re the bane of my very existence," Hux deadpans, "You like that one?”

“No, I don’t like that one – tell me pleasing ones.”

Hux laughs a little, tilting his head back and to the side lazily.

Being in Hux’s good graces is a rolling adventure – Kylo can feel empty, like his heart is in a drought and his soul has been wrung dry of all purpose and feeling. It can leave him feeling cold and more alone than alone feels. Other times, times like now, he feels divinity and completion.

With all certainty, Kylo knows there is no God. It’s one of few things he and Hux can agree is true. But even if there were one, Kylo wouldn’t pray to Him. Kylo wouldn’t serve Him. And if Kylo could not replace Him, he would still light the all of the universe aflame to make way for Hux. And Hux could, would, and _should_ replace Him, Kylo thinks. For so long as Hux forgives him for his transgressions, forgives him for when he speaks or acts without thinking, forgives his unpredictable temperament, then he doesn’t need any God to forgive him.

No, Kylo needs no one and nothing else. Kylo has always been without a God, and that’s quite fine, because he happened upon General Hux, and when General Hux’s eyes meet his and there is just a shimmer of kindness left for him – kindness that has somehow survived the black-skied hurricane of violence Hux has endured and committed – he feels Chosen. He feels divine. He feels forgiven. He needs no God, needs no mercy or salvation, so long as those lapis and cobalt eyes fix on his with meaning and impossible understanding.

How _could_ he need anything else?

“I’m not sure who in your family tree deserves the credit for passing them down to you, but you’ve a beautiful set of eyes. Truly, unlike I’ve ever seen.”

“That’s not…” Kylo can sense that Hux isn’t lying, but he is hesitant to believe him still, “…they’re not colorful like yours. Tell me a different one.”

“No,” Hux says defiantly, “No, I chose your eyes, and they don’t have to be bright colors to be beautiful, Ren. Yours are still a multitude of colors, just darker. And I find I prefer how dark your eyes are.”

Kylo stares at Hux for a long few beats, confusion and flattery twisting up his chest into knots. Hux pulls his legs in and scoots closer, into the wide “v” of Kylo’s legs.

All circuits start firing at once for Kylo, the impulse to lean forward and kiss Hux is so strong, the ability to wrap his arms around Hux’s slim waist, to grope at him with what would surely be nervous, eager, untrained hands is so _near_.

His heart rate sky rockets, and he imagines dying of a heart attack someday, all because General Hux stepped too close to him. He’d laugh at the image in his head, but there’s not enough air in his lungs to laugh.

His body seems big in comparison to Hux’s, like if Kylo were brave enough to pull Hux into his arms, against his chest, and tuck him away from the galaxy, he might be able to hide all of Hux forever. There’s an appeal to that – to capturing General Hux like a coveted gem and keeping him a safe secret from the unforgiving, and unforgivable universe.

“Look into my eyes.”

Kylo responds to the order obediently, and he sees and _feels_ the wave of pleasure that sparkles in Hux’s eyes.

_You’re so bossy._

“See,” Hux says, clearly ignoring Kylo’s telepathic comment – it probably came out sounding more endeared than annoyed anyway, “Remarkable here – your eyes behave differently than anyone else’s I've seen. Most people have darker colors surrounding their iris, but yours start off with a dark sort of olive green, and they bleed into darker browns by the pupil. I see speckles of lighter shades of brown, though, in them too.”

It would be so simple, so easy, so _natural_ to tilt forward just a few inches and close the space between them. He can smell Hux’s cologne, and sweat, and he _wants_ so much. His heart is erratic.

Hux’s hand comes to take Kylo’s chin, his fingers curling around Kylo’s jaw and he turns Kylo’s head to an angle, inspecting his eyes closely. Kylo doesn't resist him.

“Yes – your eyes are dark, mostly brown, but lovely for it. I quite like that unless I am standing very close to you, I sometimes cannot tell the divide between your pupil and iris. I think other people find that unnerving, but that’s only because they can’t appreciate strange beauty.”

“I’ve been told I’m an acquired taste,” Kylo jokes drily, his throat feeling tight, and his fingers flexing against the floor as he tamps down every instinct in his body.

“What makes you laugh, Ren?”

“What?”

Kylo doesn’t shake Hux’s hand off because he wants Hux to keep touching him as much as he wants Hux to stop touching him, and it’s maddening, so he finds himself just allowing Hux to hold his face like a specimen under a microscope. And Hux keeps that hand there, on his chin, still sitting too close, still staring too intently.

“I’ve made an imbecile out of myself, laughing in front of you, and you’ve yet to return the favor. Am I not funny to you?”

“That’s a loaded question.”

Hux laughs and finally takes his hand back, “see!” he says, smacking Kylo’s chest in a bizarrely friendly way, “I hate that you’ve found my funny bone, but I hate even more that I’ve yet to find yours.”

“I don’t know,” Kylo answers, “I don’t think I’ve ever found it, myself.”

Hux’s expression calms without falling, which Kylo appreciates. He’s not sure why. Hux frowning at him over the fact that he doesn’t know what might make him laugh is disturbing, though, and he’s glad Hux is so able to hide away physical, visible reactions before they even occur.

“Well, you enjoyed watching Haas get frustrated. Do you like playing pranks?”

“With you,” Kylo answers simply, “Yes.”

Hux nods and looks down, touching at his own chin like he’s gathering data.

“If you’d a taste for slapstick humor, you’d have laughed at all of his trips and falls, so that can’t be it. You yourself have a dry sense of humor, but don’t laugh at your own jokes, and so that can’t be it either. You also don’t appear too amused when I’m sarcastic with you.”

Kylo’s lips twitch up at one corner, “no, I don’t care for that.”

“You’re much too literal to enjoy Black comedy, clearly too squeamish to enjoy Blue comedy, you don’t seem to have an appreciation for word play, and you are far too concerned with performance evaluation to enjoy Insult comedy.”

“I suppose nothing will make me laugh, then.”

That response is very clearly received as a challenge. An insult, even.

“You _will_ laugh before leaving _Aurora_ , Kylo Ren, mark my words,” Hux threatens.

Just how earnest Hux is about something so trivial is nearly enough to make Kylo laugh, and his face must show it, because Hux leans in dangerously close again, like he’s onto something and mutters, “…are you ticklish, Ren?”

There is a memory, buried deep somewhere. Shrill laughter jiggling from Ben Solo’s belly still chubby with baby fat, and there are squirming fingers at his underarms, and a silly voice above him.

He thinks those nerves under his arms might be as dead as Ben Solo himself.

“I don’t think so.”

“Lying.”

“I’ve taught you too well.”

“ _Pfft_ ,” Hux smirks, “as if _you_ taught me anything about reading people.”

They stare at each other for a few more beats until Kylo is taken completely aback by Hux drawing in his legs, and using the flats of both his feet to push against Kylo’s abdomen, sliding him further down the mat and making him land hard on his back. He’s about to ask what the Hells he did to deserve that, but then Hux is straddling him, and his mind is like an error screen flashing on a broken holopad.

_There are hues and shades of blue everywhere, but it is not cool – not in the least._

He’s had this vision before.

_Everything feels humid, but he knows he’s indoors. There is damp sweat by his temples, making the hair at the base of his neck and along his forehead curl and stick to him. It’s hard to catch his breath, but he’s glad for it. He doesn’t want to catch his breath._

Hux’s canines are longer than Kylo first realized. They’re distracting, and threatening, and beautiful.

Hux is a monster, and Kylo thinks he’d like to be hunted by such a fiery, driven beast. He has never wanted to feel helpless, in all his life – it’s a feeling he has tried outrunning since he first knew what it felt like in his veins, but bleeding under Hux’s fangs, incapable of doing anything but cry, and cry out for _Hux_ , for more pain, and for more pleasure – for mercy, for punishment, for clarity, but for more of all the distraction and confusion Hux embodies – being powerless under Hux…

He _wants_.

He wants as he has never wanted before.

_The air feels electric across his skin, he hears panting and can’t decipher whether it is his or someone else’s._

He can feel all of his blood rushing from his ineffective brain down his body and he’s petrified – he hadn’t wanted Hux to find out at all about his attraction, but if he had to find out sometime, and some way, this was not the time or way Kylo would have wanted.

_His hands slide down a slim, tapered waist, someone else’s sweat drops from the tip of their nose onto him – they lean down toward him, everything is rocking and maybe lopsided. The world is on a tilt, everything is heavy, syrupy and sensitive, but good. Immensely good._

_A flash of ginger hair and a deep sigh of “ **Ren** –"_

“ _Ah_!”

He and Hux look at each other with wide-eyed surprise.

Hux’s hands are half-way up and under Kylo’s undershirt, his fingertips poking intrusively around his diaphragm. Hux grins then and starts nudging into the skin more determinedly, and Kylo could not have been prepared because he’s never been _tickled_ before. Perhaps Ben Solo was tickled as a child, but he, Kylo Ren, the adult man – he has never wanted for physicality like this.

His long legs thrash out without warning or aim, and his arms instinctively fly to Hux’s hands, trying to get him to stop. His head is thrown back and he’s turning side-to-side, trying to rock Hux off of him, and in all the absurdity of the entire situation, all Kylo can clearly think is, _so that’s what my laughter sounds like…_

“Another victory under the strict, tireless regime of General Hux!” Hux shouts mockingly over Kylo’s deep, hysterical laughter, “When all seemed lost, General Hux, in all his glory, arrived at the eleventh hour, ripping the victory from enemy hands! Oh, if only the galaxy knew the feared Lord Kylo Ren, Messianic Force-user, and fearless leader of the Knights of Ren, has a _ticklish tummy_!”

“Hux!” Kylo manages in an octave higher than what he is used to hearing escape his own body, hands feeling tingly with little blood and his entire body overcome with endorphins, “Hux! You bastard! Stop it!”

“Tell me I’ve won!”

“You’ve won!” Kylo replies immediately, desperate to make the tickling stop, but his limbs seem useless, and there’s another part of him desperate too, to keep Hux’s hands on him. His brain is a mess.

“Tell me that I’ve conquered the great Lord Kylo Ren!”

“You’ve conquered me! I surrender! I surrender!”

Kylo is glad he looks up in time – his face feels hot, what hair can’t fit in his band is sticking up in all directions, and he probably looks like even more of an unruly mess than he feels – but he sees Hux smiling.

And it’s unlike any smile before.

It is thoughtless – it is truly without a care or concern.

There is no war in Hux’s smile. There is no power to be obtained or lost, no empire to rebuild, or reclaim, or dismantle, no class division, no soldiers outside, no obsessive cadets, no Culling, no enormous Nothing that can pass over Hux at the mention of combat training, no sociopathic brother, no psychopathic father, no absent mother, no pain, no suffering, no past or future – just the throbbing, loud, and exciting present.

This smile actually reaches Hux’s eyes, and more than that, _lights them up_ like a supernova.

Kylo has heard it said that right before death, one witnesses the entirety of their lives pass before their eyes. He hopes that’s untrue. Or that, if it is, it will stop here, and let him die with just this sight in mind. Let this be all he sees for the rest of his natural life and beyond, for it is the one truly worthwhile thing Kylo’s eyes have ever beheld.

When Hux’s hands stop moving, Kylo’s diaphragm is convulsing still, his muscles twitching and shifting, and everything feels like a live-wire.

The blood that would have damned Kylo is concentrated now at his middle, and he’s fighting to keep it that way. Hux isn’t putting his weight down on Kylo’s pelvis anymore, more like kneeling over him, but Kylo is not willing to take any risks. Most of his exhausted energy is being directed on his blood pressure. Hux is too beautiful to look directly at, but still, Kylo is looking into his supernova eyes, and needing to stop, but wanting more.

All his concentration elsewhere, he supposes, is why he thoughtlessly runs his hands up Hux’s forearms and, rather than hesitancy or alarm, he’s met with dreamlike ease. Hux leans down closer to him, his eyes still clear and breathtaking, his smile still awe-inspiring.

Hux’s neck is flushed, and his clavicle is glistening with sweat. His jugular is bouncing, and his heart is beating at fifty beats per minute.

It is the first time Kylo has sensed Hux’s heart rate changing for joy.

“I made you laugh,” Hux states proudly, smiling brilliantly.

“There was a lot of blood rushing in my head,” Kylo says, trying to catch his breath, “I couldn’t hear it well. Was it unpleasant?”

“As strangely beautiful as the rest of you, I’m afraid.”

Kylo smiles back at Hux and thinks again about wrapping Hux up in his arms and hiding him away. He could flip them over, cover Hux like a human shield, and never let him go, and Hux could smile like this forever. Kylo would find a way to freeze time and space, and the galaxy could forget about them both as far as Kylo was concerned. They only need remember each other, after all. Who else could ever matter so much?

“I had a dream about your eyes.”

“What?”

“The day I first shadowed you – I woke from a dream and I couldn’t understand what I was seeing at first…”

Hux looks pleasantly curious, gentle, satisfied, and so close.

“I saw a white pulsar, surrounded by electromagnetic radiation, glowing blue and white. I saw comets burning blue too. I saw molecular clouds of all shades and hues of blue. I saw black matter halos, I saw ice, and diamonds, and quasars, and I couldn’t understand why I was seeing these things…”

He lifts his right hand to touch at Hux’s cheek.

“Then, half-awake, I thought, ‘of course,’ – of course, it is all that I see when I look into your eyes.”

 _General Hux’s eyes_ , Kylo sends to Hux, _setting the galaxy alight with silvers, and whites, and blues, alien and terrific in their beauty. Your eyes, giving life and time to the galaxy. You had just saved my life, and I was dreaming of you. I just couldn’t understand I was dreaming of you until all those colors came together, and I thought I had seen it like a familiar painting, or a song from long ago that I once knew all the words to._

“They provoke so much feeling,” Kylo adds aloud, taking his hand back and letting it rest against his calming heart, “So, forgive me when I say that it is difficult for me to hear you tell me that my eyes are lovely. It would be a difficult compliment to accept no matter what, but from you? From you, it seems unreal.”

Hux’s eyes flicker between Kylo’s with meaning, and he asks lowly, “in the hypothetical event that I’d been so taken with your eyes that I had drawn them… countless times… do you think, hypothetically, seeing a portrayal of them might allow you to trust me when I tell you these things?”

Kylo gives pause.

“You said you’ve never drawn me.”

“That’s why this is a hypothetical.”

It’s funny – the way they look at each other and both of them know that the other can tell that they both know it’s a lie. It’s all part of their game. The game that only the two of them can understand or play.

Kylo’s smile turns into a gentle laugh and Hux seems deeply pleased by the sound.

“Yes, I suppose it might. Hypothetically, that is.”

“Uhm, sir?”

Kylo turns his head and Hux twists around almost entirely to face the doorway where Nali stands in fitted gym clothes, looking partially concerned, a little scandalized, and very confused.

Hux stands up and extends a hand to Kylo, that Kylo takes without thinking. Those hands might torture him, bruise him – but they also have a home in his hair, they can be warm and soft against Kylo’s own calloused palms, and they are hands Kylo can trust. They are hands Kylo knows will not allow him to fall. Whether there is a mat below him or a crumbling planet – these hands will not allow him to fall.

“Officer Vitaan,” Hux greets.

Kylo nods at her, “Nali.”

She bows to them both and asks, “were you two sparring?”

“We were,” Kylo replies, “Hux is playing hooky and thought the time would be well-spent beating out of me every last ounce of dignity I had left. Is Captain Phasma not here to spot for you?”

“She is rather overloaded with work on the control bridge,” Nali admits, looking to Hux, “You make it seem much easier than it really is, General.”

Hux crosses his arms and responds coolly, “I flourish under pressure. Not everyone is built to man an entire fleet. I am positive Captain Phasma has everything in order. And, I’m off-duty, so feel free to call me Hux.”

Kylo is nearly as surprised by this as Nali is.

_What test is this?_

_No test_ , Hux thinks calmly, _I’m just in a good mood._

Wondering if he's ever heard that phrase from Hux before, Kylo smiles at the ground so that Nali won’t catch it and think too much of it.

“Would it be alright for me to call you by your first name?”

“Sir, yes, I – I mean, yes, uhm… Hux,” Nali stammers out nervously.

Hux does her the favor of ignoring her ineloquence by asking, “has Officer Gillash asked you out yet? You know, once he does, you’ll have to come sign some paperwork.”

Mali’s cheeks turn very dark and she waves her hands in front of her, “oh, no! Uhm, no, we – uhm, no. No! No, he hasn’t, uhm… no, we’ve just spent some time together. He hasn’t… uhm…”

“He will want to dance with you,” Kylo warns her, sounding sure of himself.

Both Hux and Nali look to him.

“He will?” she asks.

“Yes,” Kylo replies, “I was visiting his mind earlier. He was having romantic thoughts, but beyond that I saw some intentions – a dinner, music in his quarters. He has imagined you two dancing before. It is a daydream often revisited.”

“I don’t know how to, though,” Nali replies with distress, as if it were her impending doom.

Hux gives a friendly laugh, unnerving Nali but also making her feel special – Chosen in that particular way Kylo often feels. She feels favored by him now – just that he has shown some companionship towards her, trust enough to show her what he looks like with his guards down.

 _Divine, isn’t it?_ Kylo asks her.

 _That and more_ , Nali thinks wondrously.

“Well, I suppose Ren and I will just have to teach you, then.”

“You, sir?” Nali asks, already forgetting the honor of being allowed to call Hux by his surname alone, “You’d… you’d really take the time to teach me?”

“Gladly,” Hux tells her.

He turns to Kylo and says, “Ren, would you mind getting my music player from my quarters? I’ll start teaching her the basic steps – you are a stronger lead than me, however, so don’t think of running off. I’ll need your help.”

“Running off?” Kylo asks incredulously, “That doesn’t sound like me.”

Hux chuckles again and says, “you’re right, I can’t remember a single time you’ve caused any trouble by slipping from under my watch.”

Kylo smiles at him and leaves to get the music player.

He is pleased that Hux is being kind to Nali. He is pleased to teach Nali how to dance, and that she will dance with Jardom. It feels familial, in a way.

He doesn’t feel like a stranger, or guest that overstayed their welcome, as Ben Solo once did. He doesn’t feel like he’s interrupted a honeymoon, or as though he is unwanted – in fact, it feels as though he is being forced to divide his attention so that he might be shared evenly among Nali, Phasma and Hux before he leaves. He won’t be evenly shared, though. He wants to give himself to Hux – if all the rest of the galaxy vanished, and what remained was Hux and Hux alone, that would be fine.

That would be more than fine.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nali's memories of The Culling are detailed in this chapter and could be disturbing.

“Can I watch just one more time?” Nali requests politely, emanating nervous energy.

“Very well," Hux sighs, "Reset the music and, Ren, come over here.”

Hux's sigh is in no way disheartening to either Kylo, or Nali - it's hardly convincing at all, really. Kylo smiles to himself from where he has been breaking for some water, taking a breath – Nali is a quick learner, and she’s watched them waltz three times now, but she appears to be very nervous to dance with either Kylo, or Hux. So, he and Hux have simply been dancing the waltz over, and over, and over.

 _You won’t fail, Nali,_ Kylo telepathically reassure her, _Hux is in a rather good mood this cycle, as well – he won’t lose patience with you, if that's what you're worried about._

Flushing deeply, Nali bites the inside of her cheek, and sits on the floor of the room, with her chin in her hands.

_You’re both so tall, though. Jardom is at least closer in height to me. And you both seem so good at this, too. I do not want to embarrass myself._

Kylo approaches Hux, still not looking directly at Nali, so as not to give away their conversation. Hux would be very offended to know any degree of gossip is being traded right in front of him (especially because he's not being included in the gossip trading).

 _You won’t embarrass yourself,_ Kylo responds assuredly, _And bear in mind that a many great people would not have achieved their dreams, if they had been fearful of embarrassment. You are stronger than that. Dignity, cultivated over many standard years, is not lost so simply over a single, clumsy dance. Which_ _won't be clumsy - neither of us would let you trip, or fall._

Before Nali can reply to him, Kylo announces, “I think you should lead this time, Hux."

Curious, Hux quirks a brow, and asks, “why’s that, exactly?”

“Do I need a reason?”

Of course, because he notices absolutely everything, Hux realizes Kylo is quoting him from earlier in the cycle, and he rolls his eyes, silently agreeing.

Without further argument, Hux positions himself to lead, and when the music plays, he and Kylo fall into a rhythm, and step very familiar to them by now.

Nali watches them with intrigue, wonder, and idolization shining in her eyes. Her eyes follow their every move, all while roving the length of their figures from top to bottom, studying intently.

Kylo can sense a particular envious energy from her. He tries to decipher it, but he cannot tell if it is because his attention is being split between she, and Hux, if she wants more of Hux’s attention than Kylo is allowing for, or if she is envious of them dancing together for some other reason. It’s a vague type of envious feeling. She is trying to smother it away, too; she is thinking to herself that it is unladylike to harbor unhappy feelings, and Kylo dismisses that feelings have any gender association, but also asks her what it is she is envious of.

_I’m sorry, Lord Kylo Ren. I didn’t mean to offend you. You and the General seem so at peace. I wish I had a companion like that. That's all._

_How dare you. Hux would be very offended to hear such niceties,_ Kylo replies jokingly.

Nali smiles, watching their feet.

_It’s just… if I did not know better, I would think you two were soul mates, for how easily, and fluidly your energies move together. Truly, you two look like your spirits might be made up of the same things._

With warm cheeks, and a fluttery feeling in his chest, Kylo can’t help but huff a laugh, which Hux takes offense to.

“What exactly is so funny?”

Hux must think Kylo is laughing at his leading performance - which could never be further from the truth.

“No, not – Nali just had a preposterous thought.”

“Hey, now!” Nali objects, with a smile from across the room.

Kylo allows Hux to spin him before stepping in time with him again.

“What sort of preposterous thought?”

“She thought we look deceptively like soul mates, dancing together.”

“ _Soul mates_?” Hux asks incredulously, turning his head at an angle to give Nali a dry look, “You _must_ be joking.”

“ _I_ don’t think it’s preposterous," Kylo begins, "but I knew _you_ would. I don’t think she was joking at all, and if I didn’t think you’d strike me for it, I’d dare say I agree with her.”

Nali giggles, ducking her head like she might get in trouble for having fun, and Hux looks back at Kylo, rolling his eyes widely, and sighing long-sufferingly, “that’s just – it’s absurd. Soul mates aren’t real. _Souls_ aren’t even a... a _thing_. And even if they were, they’d – it’d be an inefficient mating system. It's all romantic absurdism. Nonsense.”

“How do you mean?” Kylo asks gently, not really caring about Hux’s answer as much as he just likes to hear Hux talk.

“It would be a statistical _nightmare_ , if not a statistical impossibility to find your soul mate," Hux starts in, looking like he's calculating already, "The numbers in regard to the known population of the galaxy are too enormous to calculate in my head alone, but even if you took a single planet, it would still be – I mean – take the planet Corellia for example, right? Roughly seven billion living humans populate it, and more than a hundred billion humans have _ever_ populated it."

"If you’re assigning two souls _at random_ , you’ve already got a problem right here – I mean, is your soul mate still alive? If we’re all paired up at random, ninety percent of our soul mates have been dead a good long while. And if we’re assuming your soul mate could live in the distant past, we have to consider them living in the distant future as well – meaning, the possible human lives that have yet to come are possibilities as well. So, you’d be walking about trying to find your soul mate, and they could be long dead, or not even a twinkle in their mother’s eye yet.”

“That’s fairly bleak,” Kylo comments.

“Oh, I’ve barely scratched the surface!” Hux exclaims, his hands flexing against Kylo’s shoulder blade, and clasped hand, as if he wishes to gesticulate to further his points, “So, for the sake of convenience, let’s say that not only does your soul mate live at the same time as you, but they’re roughly the same age – I don’t even want to consider someone being in their fifties or something, and some infant is born and suddenly they’ve got their soul mate. And for even more convenience, let’s say you know your soul mate as soon as you look at them – you just make eye-contact, and you know. This scenario is already beyond the absurd, that the universe would be so accommodating.”

“Alright,” Kylo agrees, looking over Hux’s shoulder to wink at Nali, who seems very humored by Hux’s fervor.

“The odds of just happening upon your soul mate on a planet like Corellia are just… infinitely small! Depending on your socialization and line of work on Corellia, the number of strangers you make eye-contact with in a single day can range anywhere from zero, to many thousands. If we assume you’re an average human citizen that commutes to work and such, we can assume that you make eye-contact with a few dozen people a day. If maybe ten percent of them are relatively close to your age, that’s around _fifty-thousand people_ in _a lifetime_. Given that you have _narrowed_ yourself down to having _five-hundred million_ potential soul mates, that means one might only find true love once in a lifetime out of ten thousand. One out of every ten thousand, Ren.”

“Point taken,” Kylo replies coolly, “You don’t think we’d develop a good system for connecting people to their soul mates, though?”

“Let’s say we did!” Hux suggests absurdly, entertaining what he clearly thinks is an illogical daydream scenario, “Let’s say we come up with some randomized search engine that allows you to see people through personal cameras or something – if _every human_ on Corellia used the system for _ten hours_ a day, out of their standard nine-day week, and if it only takes you a couple of seconds to decide if someone’s your soul mate, this system could – theoretically speaking – match you up with your soul mate if given two decades or more. Do you have the time for that, Ren? Because, I certainly don’t.”

Kylo laughs again – he’s not sure what’s come over him. Hux’s sudden shift in disposition has flicked a light on inside him that has never been touched before. He wonders why he has never laughed, why he has never been weightless like this – he wants to laugh more. He likes laughing at Hux, with Hux – he likes that when he does laugh, Hux takes on a haughty, proud air, as if he wrote and orchestrated the sound himself.

“Oh, go ahead and laugh then – I’m being serious!”

“I know you are,” Kylo replies gladly, “I just like the way you crush people’s dreams. It’s charming.”

There’s some attempt at giving Kylo a dirty look, but Hux’s mouth screws up in that endearing way when he's trying not to smile, and he just shakes his head and mutters, “shut up.”

“See, that’s the charm I’m talking about.”

“I will punch you, Ren.”

“I really don’t feel like it has to come to blows, Hux.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“Yes, I know.”

Once they spin to a stop, Hux offers to lead Nali. She is very hesitant, but he insists that he is very slightly closer to her in height than Kylo, and tells her not to be concerned if she doesn’t get it on the first try. With Hux's assurances, Nali bravely steps forward.

While they dance, Kylo hears Hux complimenting her as they move – she is watching her feet as Kylo used to when he first learned to dance with Hux as well.

Nali is highly focused on what she’s doing, her last desire in this life is to disappoint her beloved General. She is feeling honored and star struck. Kylo can relate.

 _Nali_ , Kylo asks her, folding his legs in.

_Yes, Lord Kylo Ren?_

_I have questions about The Culling. Questions I am too worried to ask the General about. Would you be opposed to me sifting through your memories?_

_Will it hurt?_

_Not at all._

It takes a moment for Nali to expel her worries.

_I give you permission, Lord Kylo Ren. I do hope that you find some way to… forgive Haas and me._

_I dislike Haas immensely. But I care about you very much, Nali. I am sure I will only feel pride for you. You have endured, overcome, and flourished in your struggles. The General and I don’t agree on much, but we agree about you, and your potential. Never doubt your power – you are stronger than you know._

Nali exudes a wave of complicated emotion and has no clear thought in response. Kylo takes the quiet opportunity following, to gently infiltrate her hippocampus. It is larger than a human’s – it leads him to believe she might belong to a species that has a particularly long lifespan. Her hippocampus looks molded to last a long while and store a greater number of memories than an average human’s. It is not so alien, though, that he is unable to navigate it.

He goes too far back at first, finding her learning to tie her shoes on a family couch and crying in frustration.

Going forward, he thinks that Hux was ‘revealed,’ to the public at age twelve, which, by the same logic, was probably the same time he entered the Academy. He tries to seek out that age – perhaps that number, memories of a birthday party or childhood celebration.

Many celebrations come into view – her memories portray a happy family. Mother and father, contentedly in love, many birthdays, anniversaries and holidays shared.

Somewhere between ten and eleven standard years, her parents died. They were both killed during a battle between the First Order and the Rebellion. Her memory is unclear – Kylo cannot tell if their deaths were accidental or purposeful. He supposes it doesn’t really matter.

They died by Rebel hands, and Nali promised them vengeance before leaving them in each other’s arms by a strangely colored forest.

When he seeks more information on that in her memory, he finds that it is customary among her people – burials are unpopular in her culture and, traditionally, people are laid out to decay naturally and return to the ground.

It would appear that she visited them as they decayed. She cried often for their loss and, at times, would feel sick upon seeing their decrepit corpses. But a sense of loyalty and duty had her returning more than was likely advisable. Their rotting flesh, threadbare skin, and foggy eyes seem to haunt her to this day, telling by the sharpness and clarity of these memories.

She was taken in by chosen Godparents. They were kind to her, but she was full of rage that could not be satiated. Kylo has never felt more connected to Nali than in this memory he finds; she with a metallic crowbar – he can’t even be sure where she got her hands on such a thing, but she took it to an abandoned home. Her village had been destroyed in the battle that killed her parents, and while her home still stood mostly untouched, many houses were falling apart, abandoned.

She had chosen one with broken floorboards, holes in the walls, and roof, and she took the crowbar to every surface, tearing down walls with inhuman strength, screaming, and sobbing, and wishing she had power enough to burn the village all to ash by herself.

This pains Kylo to watch, and to feel.

He moves elsewhere and sees she shared her first kiss with another young woman that looked similar to her – the pigment of her skin a dark magenta, her eyes all green and her hair dark too. She lived close by to Nali’s Godparents. Nali cared for this girl very deeply. This girl, just with her presence, cooled Nali’s fury, and helped her sharpen her rage into a fine tool that allowed her entry into the Academy.

Following that particular string is successful – it leads him to other memories of this girl, and she, apparently, joined the Academy the same time Nali did. Nali swore to protect her, the girl replied that she wouldn’t need protecting, but cherished Nali’s sentiment all the same.

They kissed in dark hallways, they passed notes in class, they partnered for projects and physical training, and held hands when they could. When at combat training, Nali nursed this girl back to health after she had eaten some of the poisoned food – they both learned on their own that the rusted tray was not to be trusted.

_“Do you really like him, though?” this girl – her name was Amavia – asked._

_“Yes,” Nali replied as they pulled tight-fitted sheets onto their beds, “Naos is not so unpalatable once you get to know him. He’s certainly uptight, but I don’t think he’s exactly had it easy.”_

_“Oh, and you have?” Amavia asked._

_Nali shrugged, “I sympathize with him, Ama. He grew up in the First Order – I think he wants to rest and he doesn’t know how. His parents are more like personal trainers, it seems like. I just… I understand his loneliness, I think.”_

_Amavia begrudgingly allowed for this notion. Nali smiled at her and mentioned, “you know, he told me he thinks we are very sweet together.”_

_“Oh, did he?” Amavia smiled back._

_“He did,” Nali said, finally climbing into her bunk and settling in, “He said he sees the way you look at me when I walk into a room, and that he wishes us all the happiness there is left to be had.”_

_“That is kind of him,” Amavia said._

_“Yes,” Nali answered, feeling sorry for Haas, “it is.”_

Kylo sees many flashes of lunches spent with Haas and Amavia – studying with Haas, training with Haas – even Amavia came to like Haas. Their grades were constantly matched, but he quickly rose in rank, and Nali was soon left behind. He did not allow her to be forgotten, though. He went out of his way to see her at the end of his tests and exercises, and even though he consistently promised to put in a good word for her, Nali doubted his willingness to stake his newfound status on her.

Amavia was insulted by this, but Nali explained that the galaxy has been this way for a long time, and has a long time to come before it changes, That women like them would always struggle to get what they so rightfully deserved – _she said to Amavia, “you and I will rise to power on our own merit, Ama. Just like General Hux. He never called in a favor, his father never helped him along the way, and look at where he is today – one day, you and I will work for him directly. We will serve him together, and he will take to you so much more than me.”_

_“Oh, why do you think that?” Amavia asked._

_“You are much more brooding – General Hux seems like the brooding type.”_

_Amavia laughed at that – her laughter was high-pitched and contagious._

Kylo felt something hot and dripping on Amavia’s string. He plucked it like a harp and back came a low, ominous hum. He moved onward until he saw a holopad on a desktop, describing The Culling and what would be expected of them.

There were many warnings and explanations of tests, maps and diagrams of obstacles, and lists of what would be in their packs; a long variety of basic medical care, weapons and tools. All Nali’s memory focuses on, though, is the warning that one of the two squadrons going into the woods will have a poisoned meal pack. There is only one. It is placed randomly, and not even the proctors know what group will have this meal, but the dehydrated food is infused with some sort of medication that will cause hysteria. It is meant to test the leadership abilities of the squadron leader, in handling unruly subordinates that cannot be talked down.

Abruptly, Kylo finds himself thrust into a memory of the woods, and these woods are the same as the one he saw in Hux’s memories, but years have passed since then and it is as if Nali is experiencing some place else entirely. She held Amavia’s hand while Haas lead them through the dark.

No one lost any legs, no one questioned Haas’s authority either.

At night, Haas told Nali that he was nervous about being squadron leader – he confided in her that he felt she was better suited for leadership. She offered to take control for him, but _he shook his head and said, “no – I must prove myself. You and I share the same dream – if we want to work for General Hux, we need to graduate top of the class. I cannot just… I can’t just give up now. If… if I fail, that is when you should take the reigns.”_

Nali agreed to that.

At some point, they were being preyed on by something wild in the woods. Haas had one injured cadet, his arm in a makeshift sling, but besides being exhausted and frightened, his squadron was in good shape. He took them to lower ground and had everyone dig while he, and a few chosen others, watched out for signs of whatever animal or animals might have been after them at some point.

They settled into their trenches, ate their dinners, and half the squadron slept while the other half stayed up to watch over them in shifts. Nali was watching Haas doze off and kicked his leg, forcing him to shake his head and give her a faltering, fatigued smile.

_“Only two more days,” she said reassuringly, “Two more days and we’ll be out of here, taking our written finals and then graduating. We are so close to the finish line.”_

He did not look very convinced, but he nodded to her anyway.

Nali’s memory is very blurred after that interaction.

At some point, though, Amavia broke out into tears and screeches, which disrupted the entire squadron. They all heard a dangerous, feral growl from deeper in the darkened woods - whatever animal tracking them had heard her shouts and no one was pleased. Despite genuine efforts, Haas could not calm Amavia down. She was blathering on about never having wanted this – having only gone to the Academy to stay with Nali, wishing Nali would just put her anger behind her so they could have lived a normal, quiet life together.

It would seem that Haas and Nali agreed that Amavia must have consumed the poisoned meal, and the squadron broke out into whispered debate – Amavia was good with sharpened weapons, which she was armed to the teeth with. She wouldn’t let anyone get close to her and Haas rapidly lost control of the situation. He kept looking to Nali, asking her what to do, and Nali tried her best to calm Amavia down – she could hear her classmates behind her, conspiring to kill Amavia to shut her up.

Nali felt no rage. She only felt fear. She swore to protect Amavia, and she was trying but Amavia was making it so difficult. Several cadets circled Haas, pressuring him to do something and to do that something quickly.

Amavia screamed at Haas – he and all the other cadets felt instant terror, knowing what beast was chasing them would certainly locate them now. She screamed at him that he didn’t deserve his militant status, that he was useless and that Nali was _born_ a better soldier than he could ever hope to become, no matter what training he received.

Haas, dripping with sweat and surrounded by conflicted parties looked at Nali with panic. He was pale, and before anything could be done, Amavia attacked him.

Nali tackled Amavia’s back, using her strength to pull her off Hass, calling her name in a desperate plea, but Amavia could not be moved.

Nali’s mind has blocked most of the altercation.

Kylo can only see next that Amavia wound up on the ground, crying hysterically and bleeding profusely from three puncture wounds to her side. Nali cradled her, petting back Amavia’s sweat-dampened hair, but Amavia would not welcome the comfort. She hissed angry, hateful things and writhed uncontrollably – Nali cried, begging her not to say these things, begging her to please try to breathe and they would find a way to cauterize the wound.

Amavia said they could have been happy – if Nali was not so obsessed with vengeance, they could have been happy. Nali had known Amavia was scared of The Culling test, but she did not realize how deep these fears were rooted in Amavia. She did not realize that the madness of the poison would feed on Amavia’s most well hidden doubts. She told Nali that she only joined the Academy to stay with her and that she was not meant for this – she should have stayed home. She should have let Nali go.

This broke Nali's heart.

Her last words to Nali were, “well, I hope your parents are proud.”

Nali spent a good while curled over Amavia, crying and full of that familiar rage again – that the universe had given her something beautiful only to have it taken from her yet again. Haas crouched down in front of her, looking down at Amavia. He was splattered with her blood and had a puncture wound in his left shoulder, but otherwise seemed fine.

When Nali looked into his eyes, they were empty. His emptiness spread into her too. He felt nothing and Nali felt too much, and so both were left numb. Lifeless.

_“Death does not care who you love,” Haas said robotically, “It takes, and it takes indiscriminately. You can’t choose who, you can’t choose when, you can’t choose how. You can only choose how you tell their story.”_

_Nali shook her head and said, throat dry and face wet, hands sticky with Amavia’s blood, “this is not a story I want to tell.”_

Haas nodded in agreement, stood and ordered the squadron to move out, so the beast on their trail would not come upon them. Troops moved by Nali and she could see their boots in her periphery and, despite everything in her telling her to stay with Amavia until she was out of tears, or out of love, or out of spirit, sense of self, or purpose, she stood. She laid Amavia out on the ground like she did her parents, planted a final kiss on Amavia’s forehead and followed Haas.

Kylo can see many more trials faced – obstacles that nearly killed other classmates, but Nali’s emotions were numbed, and all she felt was a loyalty to Haas, and a laser focus on completing The Culling. Haas thought her the better leader, but she could not save what mattered most to her, and so she put her faith in his own self-assuredness instead. He had faith in her despite losing Amavia, while she could not reconcile having lost Amavia in the first place, so she deferred to Haas, thinking him more competent and more capable. He, modestly, refused to take leadership without her counsel. She didn’t follow him as much as she co-commanded the squadron. They made a good team, it would appear.

It wasn’t until they made it out of the woods and were three days into recovery and testing that Nali learned their squadron was not the one with the poisoned pack.

This revelation brought much to light.

First, that Amavia’s hysteria was real. Her _fear_ was real, it was not induced by some psychotropic medication – she was terrified and angry and it took the isolation and terror of The Culling to bring it to the surface, and all Nali could think was that if wasn’t artificial – if it wasn’t staged, then it was preventable.

More than that, it means it did not have to end in death. It meant that Amavia was still there, just buried under all her fear, and if Nali had kept digging, she would have been able to retrieve her and pull her back to reality. Pull her back to her senses. If she had found just the right words to comfort Amavia, Amavia would still be with her.

She found Haas at some point, between tests and recovery rooms, and their argument took up the halls. While Nali’s eyes had returned to their emotional shimmer and shine, Haas’s had remained empty since that night of conflict with Amavia during The Culling.

Kylo can see what Nali knows; Haas had never killed anyone, and certainly never wanted to kill Amavia. If he allowed himself to feel the guilt of her death, it would be too much for him to bear, so instead he chose to feel nothing at all.

Nali shouted and cursed, had this sick desire to run back out into those woods and find Amavia’s bloodless body and, somehow, bring her back to life with the knowledge that she had not been poisoned.

Haas eventually shouted that he 'did what had to be done,' he did what she was too weakened by love to do, and that this was their divide – that he had his station because he used his mind over his heart and she could only cry and shout.

It would seem drill sergeants broke them up once it came to blows, and they did not speak again until that fight in the cafeteria aboard _Aurora_.

Kylo seeks out newer memories – she feels similarly toward Jardom as she did Amavia. She noticed Jardom a few times at the Academy, but he was quiet and largely kept to himself. She thinks now that he was probably too shy to approach her and could see that she was in a happy relationship, which encouraged him to keep out of her way. She recognizes the good morals in that, the sweetness in staying away from her so as not to impose. She thinks him gentlemanly. 

Kylo can see that she finds a sense of relaxation and contentment when she is with Jardom.

“… lo Ren?”

Kylo opens his eyes and looks up to see Nali and Hux standing posed, an uncertain smile trying to make its way onto Nali’s face.

“Lord Kylo Ren?”

He realizes she has not felt him sifting through her mind. She is unaware of what he has seen.

“Yes – I’m sorry, I… I was meditating.”

“Well, we’ll just have to perform it all again,” Hux announces, looking at Nali, “Force-users – so inconsiderate. Have a live performance in front of them and they go off _meditating_.”

Nali smiles at Hux and he smiles cautiously back at her, “and don’t listen to a word he says about meditation – it does absolutely nothing.”

“Just because you’re shit at meditation does not make it useless,” Kylo replies with a smirk.

“I didn’t hear that,” Hux says haughtily, making Nali laugh as he leads her back into their dance.

Kylo watches this time, sees the smile on Nali’s face, sees the gladness in her eyes.

She made it.

Not unscathed, but none of them make it out unscathed.

She honored her parents until there was nothing left to return to, she got into the Academy, she allowed herself to love despite the war in her heart and the rage she quieted with soft kisses and softer hands. She worked tirelessly, she climbed her way to the top, and now she is here, dancing with General Hux, working directly for him and Captain Phasma. She has achieved more than she ever thought to dream of.

Kylo can sense that she doesn’t allow herself to wonder what it might have been like for Amavia to be here with her.

She doesn’t allow herself to imagine Amavia, somewhere out there in the universe, watching over her. She is too scared that Amavia knows Nali failed her. She is too scared that Amavia would disapprove of her happiness, of her sense of accomplishment, of her pursuit of power.

She dances well, though. She doesn’t allow her ghosts to cloud her eyes or judgment anymore. And she resents Haas. She wants him to feel something, _anything_ – to talk to her again, to be her friend as he once was, but she knows he will never again be the Haas she knew. She is trying to make peace with that. Still struggling.

When Hux insists upon it, Kylo dances with her too, complimenting her skills and fast-learning, and once they’ve tired themselves out, she excuses herself to shower and eat and likely get to sleep. She thanks them both multiple times and bows before she leaves.

When Hux and Kylo find themselves alone again, staring in the direction in which she left, Kylo does not look at Hux, but says certainly, “you know, Hux – if we _were_ soul mates, I would find you. I would always find you.”

Hux sighs deeply, and when Kylo thinks Hux is going to argue the mathematic improbability of that, all Hux says in response is, “…honestly, Ren… I believe you.”

When Kylo turns to look at Hux in surprise, he’s too late and finds Hux facing away to pack up his music player.

“Come on now, Ren. I’m rather exhausted from this cycle. Aren’t you?”

Kylo nods, knowing Hux can’t see it, but Hux senses it anyway. That, or he doesn’t care whether or not Kylo agrees. Probably the latter.

“Let’s get back to my quarters then,” Hux offers, heading toward the exit, “We’ll wash up and have dinner sent to the room.”

“You don’t think Phasma will be waiting for us at dinner?” Kylo asks, catching up to Hux.

Hux laughs, “oh no – Phasma has absolutely no idea what my work is actually like. It will take her at least eight cycles to get used to the demands of my schedule. I doubt she’ll catch any sleep this cycle or the next.”

“That’s too bad,” Kylo says without much energy.

He is truly spent – he used so much energy pulling Force pranks for the first half of the cycle, then spent the second half of the cycle sparring, being _tickled_ and dancing. He thinks to himself that he should probably be disturbed by the softness his life has taken on, but he can’t bring himself to feel anything but bittersweet joy.

He wonders if Leia Organa would be glad for him.

He banishes that thought almost as soon as it forms.

He looks to Hux’s flustered profile for comfort and finds tranquility immediately. Hux turns to look at him, a question in the shift of his brow. Kylo shakes his head to imply that what he was thinking is inconsequential, but then Hux gasps, grabs Kylo’s arm and says, “I can get dessert!”

Kylo’s brow furrows, “…alright?”

“No, you dunce!” Hux starts excitedly, “I _never_ get to eat dessert! I’m always – I’m always working, and I have to stay in prime physical condition, but… if I’m off-duty, no one can keep me from the cakes.”

Kylo’s smile spreads, “does someone actively keep you from these desired cakes?”

“Plasma, of course,” Hux replies with a roll of his eyes, “That woman hasn’t consumed a single gram of sugar since she was ten standard years old. Keeping up with her is to sacrifice all of your tongue’s greatest joys.”

“You work out with her?”

“When I can,” Hux answers, “Again, she is… diligent. I often have more pressing matters to attend to. That reminds me – when we get back to my quarters, would you mind going over my missile designs with me? I’d like your opinion.”

Kylo’s heart throbs in that welcome, familiar way and he nods, “I would be glad to, Hux. So. Cake and missiles?”

“Cake and missiles,” Hux responds with a smile, “that’s our agenda.”

“You know, I’ve heard many important men on this ship have strict agendas to keep to –"

“Ren, if you make one more joke about me –"

“You are such a spoilsport.”

Hux makes some sort of disgusted, disgruntled noise at that, only further proving Kylo's point, and then comes to a stop when Kylo does. He stares at Kylo in wait until Kylo offers his arm like he did at the gala.

“To your quarters, General Hux? The evening is young and I’ve heard there’s cake, missiles, and drawings to be shared.”

Hux hesitates for a beat, then laughs and links their arms, patting Kylo’s in friendly gratitude.

“Right. Cake, missiles, and drawings. Have I mentioned that our entire – you know, whatever the Hells it is we are – is fucking bizarre?”

“I think I can round that at about the same number of times you’ve told me you hate my bucket.”

“That’s impossible. I’ve definitely said I hate your bucket more than I’ve noted the absurdity of our friendship.”

Kylo’s head twists to Hux who looks like he’s been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

He hesitantly looks up at Kylo, and whatever Kylo’s face communicates must ease Hux’s worries, because his shoulders slacken a little and he adds, “have I, uh… not said so?”

“You know you haven’t.”

Hux swallows roughly, looks ahead, and starts forcing them to walk a little faster.

“Tell me.”

“Stop trying to embarrass me.”

_I’m not trying to embarrass you. I’ve waited long for this. Just tell me._

“ _Fine_ ,” Hux seethes in irritation, his arm tightening around Kylo’s, “if you’re so thick you haven’t been able to figure it out yet, you… I consider you… we…”

He makes an aggravated noise, tilts his head back with eyes shut, then sets it determinedly forward again.

“I consider you my friend, Ren.”

Kylo twines their fingers and he feels Hux’s heart beating at seventy beats per minute. He doesn’t bother to check his own – it might be trying to fly up and out of his throat, wings batting frantically against his ribcage for how hurried it is.

“No six words have ever made me happier.”

Hux rolls his eyes again, thinking this is yet another joke at his expense, but Kylo squeezes his hand as if to press into him the severity of his feelings.

“Truly. Thank you, Hux. I don’t know that I make a good friend.”

“You don’t.”

“You plan to keep me anyway, though?”

Hux glances down at their hands and then up at Kylo.

“As long as I can, yes.”

Kylo thinks about the droid Hux came to care about. He thinks of Brendol. He thinks of Hux’s mother. He wonders how many beings were torn away from Hux before he stopped caring about people altogether. He wonders how painstakingly that solemn frown of his was etched into place through vanishings after vanishings. He wonders how difficult it is for Hux to admit he is attached to something or someone.

He wonders what Hux thinks it will feel like when Kylo inevitably vanishes as well.

“Don’t let physical absence fool you,” Kylo says gently.

Hux doesn’t look at him, but Kylo feels the intensity of his concentration.

“I will always be with you. Always.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://what-if.xkcd.com/9/ is where you can find the mathematics behind ‘soul mates,’ although I altered a lot of the numbers to fit this particular conversation. 
> 
> And yes, Nali is canonically bisexual.
> 
> EDIT: A lot of people have been saying there are lines in this chapter that are similar to things from Hamilton. Just for clarification, I have never seen or listened to anything from Hamilton. All I know about Hamilton is what I've seen in photosets on Tumblr. If there are similarities, they're completely unintentional. Please, please stop leaving comments about this being like Hamilton, it makes me worried someone is going to try to accuse me of plagiarism.
> 
> All intentional references I EVER make are always sourced in end notes.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BIG TRIGGER WARNING HERE, PLEASE READ CAREFULLY  
> There is a lot of suicidal ideation in this chapter and a highly detailed account of a suicide attempt. I'm serious when I say this could be triggering and upsetting for people - always mind the tags and ratings. The descriptions are explicit and very disturbing.
> 
> If you want to skip the upsetting account of the suicide attempt, skip the entire section from the line "Hux is young, his hair is dry and a little disheveled," until the line, "You’re awake.” If you want the information exposed during this scene without having to read it, refer to the bottom notes. I will put a description of what important plot developments were planted in this chapter for those of you that cannot read material like this. 
> 
> Also, while I have your attention, if you are one of a handful of people that keep leaving reviews like 'when are they gonna bone' please stop. This is a slow burn fic, the smut will happen, but seriously, those comments aren't helpful or encouraging. They're just sort of annoying.
> 
> Please be careful reading! I hope you enjoy!

This time, Millicent doesn’t hesitate to greet Kylo when he enters Hux’s quarters, and she even keeps him company when Hux showers and gets into his sleepwear. Kylo arranges the pillows on the couch in Hux’s common space to later sleep on, and looks over Hux’s missile designs while he showers.

When Kylo listens closely, he can hear Hux humming. His throat is strained with trying to keep quiet, but he must feel a compulsion to sing or hum when he bathes.

Kylo thinks it’s a nice sound.

He wonders if Hux has a gifted singing voice. He decides to ask Millicent, and she rubs up against his calf, shaking her tail a little. He isn’t sure what it means, but thanks her for her input anyway.

Once Hux is out, Kylo goes in, and by the time he’s returned to Hux’s wide room, dinner is served, and there is a layered cake sitting on Hux’s work desk.

Kylo rubs his towel over his hair and says, “you know, you look much smaller, out of uniform.”

“You know, I hate you every other second you speak?”

Kylo smiles at him and tosses the towel onto the arm of Hux’s couch, not looking to see if it landed (he knows it did) and instead turning to sit with Hux at the nook of his viewport. They’re passing a vibrant, red nebula, but still Hux’s room is blue, dim with calming shadows and smelling fresh with steam still billowing out from the refresher.

Kylo sits across from Hux and talks to him about the missile blueprints, how he likes the sleek design, asks Hux about his inspirations for it, and Hux discloses how much land his missile could turn to ash and that he intends for it to be coated with reflective metals, making it invisible until it is too late. Kylo thinks that’s morbidly poetic, which Hux looks at him drily for, and when Kylo makes some offhanded comment about the colors of nebulae, he somehow winds up listening to a lecture on the components of nebulae and how human eyes perceive light and color.

Kylo isn’t sure how long they stay up talking like that. The ship seems so quiet when they are alone as they are. Hux doesn’t seem to like cake as much as he likes icing. Kylo mocks him and is ‘punished,’ by having to take some share of the treat. Kylo isn’t really one for sweets – he prefers salted or bitter flavors, but he doesn’t mind the cake. He doesn’t mind being taught about nebulae or light travel either.

“What do you know about Haas?”

Hux quirks an inquisitive brow, “Haas? I know plenty. What information are you looking for, exactly?”

“His background,” Kylo answers, looking out the viewport, “Nali allowed me to witness her experience of The Culling through memory retrieval. Haas was her squadron leader. Based on what I saw, I think Haas may have long been broken before the Academy took hold of him.”

“He was certainly a troubled youth,” Hux replies, thumbing icing away from the corner of his mouth, “He had a history of running away from home. Made a bad habit of it. I’m not sure what his home life was like, but after his fifth escape, he made it two weeks before authorities dragged him back home and, as punishment, his parents sent him off to the Academy. Plenty of families that saw, or were born, during the Empire, use the Academy as a sort of daycare. They send their unruly children, and there are only two ways to leave the Academy.”

Kylo looks back at Hux and asks, “which are?”

“You leave in a body bag or you leave a graduate.”

“Charming. Can you explain what time is spent where in training?” Kylo asks conversationally.

“Certainly,” Hux says, “The Academy is like a private, military school. It’s like primary schools, but the students are held to much higher standards. People enter at different ages, but I started at age twelve. I was there until I was seventeen – the Academy’s militant aspect is like a watered down boot camp. It’s not all too difficult, really. You have regularly scheduled physical fitness tests and you receive basic training. Then you shift to another area of the Academy, which is combat training.”

Kylo looks at Hux from the corner of his eye, worried Hux will lose himself but he doesn’t. He remains fully present, although he doesn’t meet Kylo’s stare or even seem to notice Kylo’s eyes on him.

“Combat training is shorter, but feels much longer. That’s where you get educated on everything military from de and re-constructing blasters with a blindfold on, to specially designed martial arts, to ordinance. Your primary years at the Academy are meant to prepare you for the physical demands of combat training, but I don’t think there is any preparing for it. When you’re not in intensive physical training, you’re in classrooms, studying the history and development of modern weaponry, engineering, and war strategy. I graduated combat training at nineteen – right on schedule. Once you’ve completed combat training, you’re shipped off to secondary schooling – specialization schools, teach you a very specific job that you’ll likely be doing the rest of your time in the First Order.”

“You didn’t go to this schooling, though, did you?” Kylo asks, already knowing the answer.

“No,” Hux replies, “I was already a Brigadier General – my academic achievements and natural military genius was rightfully acknowledged, and I was thrust directly into the fleet. I fought and won many battles, engineered some useful equipment, and then they gave me the _Finalizer_.”

“How long have you known Captain Phasma?”

Hux looks at Kylo in surprise.

He is hesitating.

Kylo is unsure of what that might mean.

“I only mean to ask if you’ve known her since your Academy days. You’re roughly the same age, have a personal relationship with each other, and aren’t too far apart in rank. Have you known her that long?”

Still looking a little suspicious, Hux nods.

There is more to be said and Kylo can feel in the air that it will be said if he gives it time.

Patience has easily been the most aggravating and testing ability Kylo’s managed to acquire, but he has acquired it. Or at least enough of it.

Hux doesn’t disappoint.

“Ren, would you like to hear about how I tried to kill myself?”

Always unpredictable this way – Kylo adores this about Hux. He might have a rough idea of what the oncoming conversation will be, but he never can tell what road Hux will take him down.

“I would,” Kylo replies readily, evenly.

Hux leans back in his seat with a sigh, looking out the viewport, “I’ve never failed to kill anyone before. If I was given a target, I was always able to see it through to the end. And I would have succeeded had it not been for Phasma.”

Kylo can sense Hux struggling for the words.

He lays his hand out on the table in an offering.

Hux looks down at the proffered hand, stares blankly at it for a few beats, and then rests his hand on top of Kylo’s.

“You do know that this hand-holding business is not…”

“Not what?” Kylo prompts.

'Embarrassed,' is not something the great General Hux feels.

Indignant, offended, caught off-guard – sometimes all at once, yes. But never _embarrassed_. Leave it to Kylo, though, to elicit that response.

“I didn’t know her well,” Hux deflects, looking down at where his fingertips move randomly across Kylo’s open palm, “We lived in the same corridor. Shared some classes.”

Again, Hux struggles.

He looks into Kylo’s eyes and asks, “if I share memories of this event with you, can you promise me that you will not look into my motivations?”

More than disappointed, Kylo is confused. He assumed that the motivation behind killing oneself is imperative to the story making any sense. Context – Kylo always thought the context would matter.

But if Hux does not want Kylo to know why he tried to kill himself, he will obey Hux.

“Yes,” Kylo answers confidently.

Hux sighs heavily again and looks down at Kylo’s palm. Hux is an intuitive man and a lightning-fast learner. It shouldn’t shock Kylo that Hux finds a way to stream his memories from his mind down his arm and into Kylo’s palm – it still does shock him, though.

_Hux is young, his hair is dry and a little disheveled. He’s looking in a mirror over a sink. There is a bathtub behind him and he’s contemplating filling it. Maybe drowning himself. He knows it’s unlikely to work._

**_It’s not enough. It will never be enough. You will never be enough. Not like this._ **

_Static._

_Static like white noise, but white noise so soft that it’s violent. Hux wants to break something – glass, wood, plastic, metal, bone – anything he can break between his hands. The haunting static noise in his head leaves him weak, though. Full of fiery rage, flooded with helpless, limbless despair and some unspeakable agony. The static leaves him numb, though. Too numb to fight. Too numb to break anything, too numb to act on the rage or despair._

**_Your brain is so fucked. How could you have allowed this to happen? You’re so fucked now – you’re too broken to fix._ **

_Hux thinks of himself like poorly wired, deficient weaponry equipment._

**_If it cannot be fixed, it ought to be destroyed._ **

_Hux thinks this is logical – he is broken, his mind has been betraying him._

_He has been having auditory and visual hallucinations for weeks. The lines and dark smudges under his eyes speak to a seemingly endless stream of sleepless nights._

_He has not completed The Culling yet._

That strikes Kylo as strange. He was sure The Culling was to blame for whatever drove Hux to do what he did, but Hux has yet to reach that point in combat training in this memory. In fact, he is still seventeen here in this memory. Kylo is unsure of what is causing Hux’s young mind to malfunction this way.

_Hux thinks that killing himself will be the best use of himself he can make._

_He does not have friends._

_He thinks of his father, his only remaining family, and dismisses the man – the Commandant is young enough to produce more heirs if he so needs to. Hux will not be missed._

_Hux thinks to himself over and over that he has no place. He has no place. He never has._

_He feels he is a tumor on the otherwise functioning organs of the universe – that all energy in the galaxy has been trying to purge him from the moment he came to be._

_Something has drained Hux of his spirit and hope._

_Hux hadn’t even known he’d had hope for something until it was taken away._

_Everything is too vague to understand still._

_Hux used to have a roommate. He doesn’t anymore._

Hux may have killed the roommate.

Kylo can’t tell.

_Hux thinks of the most efficient ways to kill himself. He doesn’t have weaponry available to him in his room besides a dagger – a dagger Kylo recognizes._

_Kylo can hear that small child screaming again, begging, sobbing, voice bubbling with tears and illness. Hux hears that child too and wants to kill him._

**_If you hang yourself, you risk suffocation. You cannot be positive your noose will be perfect – you haven’t slept for several cycles now. If any one calculation is off, you could just dangle in agony for too long._ **

_Hux is thinking of cortisol – the stress hormone. The hormone that ignites the fight-or-flight instinct. He does not want to be in a situation where he has prolonged exposure to high spikes of cortisol. He doesn’t want to be in discomfort for that long. He is desperate for a quick and relatively painless end, but he refuses to allow someone else to kill him._

_To be killed by another’s hands is an option – he has sparring and intensive training with a small class of other cadets around his age every morning. He has killed students during these classes. Some accidentally, some not. Once he is in a fight, he fights to live and cannot smother that instinct; he figures that even if he could put aside his dignity to allow someone else to ‘accidentally’ kill him during training, he couldn’t smother the instinct to fight for his life._

_Having someone else kill him is out of the question. More than that, Hux seems to want to accomplish his suicide this very night. He does not want to wait until the work cycle begins again. He wants to be dead by morning._

_He cannot shoot himself because he has no blaster available. He could craft a makeshift noose from materials in his room, but without the guarantee that it will break his neck properly, he doesn’t want to risk it._

_He looks out from the bathroom’s open door to the dagger that shines from his bedside table._

_He begins to run a bath of scalding water. Even the steam burns for how hot the water is running. Hux doesn’t care._

_There is a holopad on his bedside table as well. He stares at it for a moment, thinks that maybe he could just open up something to read and lie in bed and not die. Then the moment is gone._

_He does not write a note because he has no one to write it to._

_The back of his eyes grow hot and the last time he cried –_

**_No._ **

**_Blocked._ **

_Kylo is not permitted to see. He can hear things breaking, though, screaming, a panicked voice that is not Hux’s, something falling – whatever made Hux cry, it had been recent to this memory, and it was causing his hallucinations and insomnia. Whatever made Hux cry for the last time, it was the Something that made Hux who he is. It was the Something that gave birth to the Nothing that fills Hux’s eyes whenever he revisits this place in memory. It’s the Something that disengaged Hux’s ability to empathize._

Kylo could steal this memory if he so desired. He could follow that string against Hux’s wishes and just see, just feel, just _understand_ –

But he won’t.

His chest feels constricted and he wants to know so badly. But this memory alone is a gift he has no way of knowing how he came to deserve. So he bites the side of his tongue and only follows the strings of memory offered.

_Hux undresses down to his underwear. His body looks emaciated. He has not been eating for several days – his migraines have been torturing him, ruining his appetite. His body is so weak._

It is a bizarre, troubling desire to want to save someone from something that has already occurred and cannot be reversed. Bizarre in that it is irrational, and troubling in that it still seems possible. A useless desire.

Clearly useless as it is, Kylo still wishes he were able to run into that bathroom and gather young Hux into his arms, heal his body, give him rest and save him from himself.

Cherishing a person makes for strange wishes.

_Hux seethes as he submerges his arms into the near boiling water. He does this to numb the skin, which works. He takes his dagger and makes an incision maybe an inch and a half deep from the base of his palm up to the bend of his arm on both arms._

_He feels the cut, but he is very removed from the experience. As if another mind is operating his hand. He is far from himself. There is pain when he passes over nerves, but still, he does not cry. He only hisses and curses softly to himself._

_He can’t tell how long it takes him to carve these lines artfully into his skin. He can’t recall if he hesitated at all. Time is a cold, loose whirlpool he can’t get a solid grip on._

_Blood slides lazily over his porcelain, threadbare skin, dripping onto the floor._

_He thinks of looking at himself one last time. He is unsure why he wants to. The mirrors are fogged with steam now, though, and he cannot see himself anyway._

**_It is just meat. You are just a brain operating a big slab of meat and bone. Who cares what it looked like. It doesn’t matter what it looked like. It doesn’t matter. You don’t matter that way. You never did._ **

_He forces himself into the tub, burning his skin and turning his body a bright red. His nerves revolting against the pain of the water is cathartic to his unwound mind. He sinks his arms down into the water, turning all of the tub scarlet. The hot water will hurry his circulation along. This will kill him more quickly._

_He will lose consciousness soon._

_The pain is soon gone from him. He is aware of it in a dull, sleepy sort of way. It’s like an itch he’s too exhausted to be bothered to scratch._

_He remembers his mother and he hates her._

_He remembers his brother and he hates him._

_He remembers his droid and his head lolls back against the rim of the tub._

_“I want to go home.”_

_His voice is so weak, so quiet, Hux isn’t sure he’s even said it at all. His lips are sort of numb too, and his throat feels like it’s thickly coated with something, which makes him vaguely nauseous. But over the rushing sound of water from the faucet, and now the red stained water pouring out over the tub and onto the bathroom floor, he can hear himself just a little._

_“I want to go home,” he says again, his voice fighting the static of space and the throbbing in his skull._

_“I want to go home.”_

_Hux doesn’t know what he means by that – he has never had a place, he has never had a home, but it is the most organic and most sorrowful plea Kylo has ever heard._

_It is not the panicked squawk of Ben Solo’s mother bird. It is not the muffled, bitter arguments Ben Solo heard through too-thin walls. It is not the cries for mercy of young padawans he can still hear in meditation. It is not the weeping of Nali over her fallen beloved._

_It is more crestfallen than Leia Organa’s last request to hold her only son. It is more mournful than the cry of the Wookie that once knew Ben Solo’s father._

_It is the loneliest and most woeful prayer to ever be uttered – so full of desolate, wintry torment, it encompasses a pain Kylo has known himself, but could never express. It is the most despairing song of the universe._

_Then Hux wakes up._

_There are wraps around his forearms and he can already feel the itch of his cuts healing. His bandaged wrists are secured to his hospital bed, as are his ankles. He has a catheter and can sense the illusion of painlessness through heavy medication being administered through an I.V. It’s in a vein showing from the top of his hand. He moves his fingers experimentally, to test the discomfort._

_He is in pain again, so he must still be alive, he supposes._

_His eyes grow hot again, and he bites his tongue until it bleeds to keep from crying._

**_You fucking failure. You fucking idiot. You can’t do any fucking thing right, can you? You are so useless. So worthless. So broken - and now they will never leave you alone long enough to kill yourself. You’ve fucked up your one chance at this, you fucking ingrate. _ **

_He sits up as much as he can – the drugs have made him lethargic, and his body is still malnourished and weak. This is when he sees a fellow student in the doorway._

**_She goes by Phasma. She is in three of your classes._ **

_“You’re awake.”_

_“Nothing seems to escape your notice,” Hux bites back at her, “What the fuck am I doing here?”_

_She doesn’t allow herself to react to Hux’s anger._

_“You were mostly dead in a bathtub. I was sent by an instructor to fetch you in regard to some designs he’d found in a notebook you’d left behind in class. I knocked a few times, but when there was no reply, I let myself in. I found you in quite a state. No one knows the details – the story is that you’re on leave for a family emergency.”_

_“You have my undying gratitude,” Hux says viciously._

_“I certainly ought to. They said that if I’d been just ten minutes late, you’d have been too gone to save.”_

_“Ten minutes?” Hux asks, his monitors beeping with his stress rising, “You couldn’t have just let me **be**?”_

_“You know, most people **thank** their rescuers. And did you have to make it so gruesome? I nearly got sick just walking in on that scene.”_

_He thinks maybe he’s high on the fluids being pushed through his veins, but Hux likes her. She is looking sternly at him and seems genuinely offended by the nature of his suicide attempt, as if his method was a personal slight against her._

_“You know who I am,” Hux says._

_“Yes,” Phasma answers._

_“Then you know I’m the son of the Commandant, and you know I could make your life Hellish.”_

_“As if it isn’t already. Are you going to threaten me outright, or just dance around the idea of threatening me when you can’t even piss on your own?”_

_Hux’s monitors slow down their high-pitched beeping and he lies back on his inclined hospital bed._

_“I’m not thankful that you saved me,” Hux tells her, his voice raspy, but kinder, “but would you save me again?”_

_Phasma’s brow creases, “yes, I would.”_

_“Is that what friends are?” Hux asks._

_After some contemplative silence, Phasma looks behind her and then shuts the door. She walks up closer to Hux’s bedside and with a strange expression, responds worriedly, “do you not know what a friend is?”_

_“I’ve never had one,” Hux admits to her, “Grew up with droids, and once I was at the Academy, becoming emotionally invested in anyone seemed counterintuitive. Have you got friends?”_

_She hesitates to answer, “…yes. You’ve never had a friend?”_

_“Did you not hear me the first time?”_

_She looks down at the cuffs keeping him chained to his bed._

_“If I undo these for you, you won’t do anything stupid, will you?”_

_“If by ‘stupid,’ you mean make another attempt on my life, I can assure you that I’m much too weak to try. Besides, if I’m being honest, I’m still licking the wounds of my failure right now. I’m not inclined to make a scene.”_

_With a worried curve of her mouth, Phasma goes to each side of the bed and uncuffs his ankles and wrists. Hux stretches out his legs and arms and like a head rush, he feels all of his muscles wake up and, rather than tingling followed by relief, he feels burning and aches. He hisses some discomfort and scratches uselessly at the outside of one of his bandaged arms._

_“Thank you,” Hux tells her._

_“You’re welcome.”_

_He looks at her and says, “I know you’re the only one here. You’d have called for someone else if anyone were with you. You must be wondering where my father is.”_

_She seems surprised._

_“I may not socialize much, but I’m an avid observer,” Hux says confidently, “I’m gifted that way. In any case – he won’t come. As soon as I’m released, they’ll ship me back to the Academy and odds are I won’t see him again until I’m in the fleet and actually, officially working for him. I can tell you are concerned about this. There is nothing to be concerned over. That you are even a remotely familiar face is a consolation. Thank you for seeing me.”_

_“Friends are people who care about each other,” Phasma explains, unprompted, “Friends are people who take care of one another in times of need, who help one another, and give to each other without thinking of receiving something in return. Friends are people that strengthen each other, and invest in the success and wellness of each other.”_

_“…okay,” Hux replies._

_“Are you capable of any of that?”_

_Hux contemplates this closely. He is unsure. He knows he can care about others, because he has cared about people before – he cared about his father when he was young and desperate for parental love and approval; he doesn’t care about his father now. He cared about his brother once too, but he’s killed his brother and he doesn’t feel anything when he thinks about his brother now. He cared about his droid too and he drew pictures for that droid._

_Mostly landscapes and animals he’d see outside on the estate._

_He is unsure what the droid did with those drawings, but he gave those drawings without thinking of receiving praise. He was young. He didn’t know there were things to be gained and traded yet. He just gave because he wanted to share himself._

_“I have never taken care of someone else,” Hux confesses, “I’ve not invested in the success or wellness of others, but I’ve done the rest. I could do them again. In fact, I’m capable of most anything. So, yes. Yes, I am capable of those things.”_

_“Then, would you like to be my friend?”_

_She offers her hand to shake so that he doesn’t have to answer her. He shakes her hand and when she lets go, she pulls up a chair next to his bed and says, “now that we’re friends, you can’t kill yourself. I know I should’ve let you read the fine print, but it’s common knowledge that killing yourself is a shitty thing to put your friends through. So, no more attempts, got it?”_

_He nods, still a little speechless._

_It took slicing himself open like a cadaver on an examination table, but he’s managed to make a friend._

_“Can I eat any solids, do you know?” he asks her._

_Phasma makes a vague hand gesture, “sort of? They offered pudding, but I took that off the list. You need more protein and fiber. I signed you up for some flax seed oatmeal and multi-vitamin water.”_

_Hux looks utterly betrayed._

_“I just tried to kill myself and you take away the pudding?”_

_“Do you know how many calories are in a cup of pudding?”_

_Hux opens his mouth to yell at her, but he’s stopped by the challenge in her eyes._

_She is strengthening him. She is invested in his wellness. She is caring about him._

_He tries to be grateful. He is new to this, but he refuses to fail._

_“Fine,” he mutters begrudgingly, “but this better not be a regular thing.”_

_“I’ll lay off your diet once I get you back to the gym. You’ve got like two percent body fat, which is amazing, but you look like you might be made out of straw. And you’re a tall guy – with long limbs comes long muscles and I doubt we’ll be able to bulk you up, but we’ll at least be able to do some strength-training.”_

_“I already want to die again.”_

_She shoots him a dirty look and he smirks at her._

_She smiles and buzzes for a nurse to bring him his oatmeal in revenge._

_Hux thinks to himself that he will never let this woman go. He refuses to. He will be the height of friendship – he will exceed all of her expectations, make himself invaluable to her, and he will keep her beside him no matter where he goes._

_There is some interaction Hux has with his father that Phasma is present for. Kylo is not permitted to follow that memory. There is some sort of blackmail involved. Whatever the case is, every promotion Hux receives, Phasma is awarded one as well. They room together and, while they are not in the same squadron for The Culling, Hux sees to it that she is elected squadron leader. When he is assigned to the fleet rather than specialization school, he makes it so that she can follow him._

_They are both nineteen standard years old, and Hux is lingering in Phasma’s bedroom doorway as she fills out some sort of documentation on a holopad._

_“You know I hate it when you don’t knock,” she chides._

_“I’ve been offered the **Finalizer**.”_

_She looks up at him._

_“Seriously?”_

_“Seriously.”_

_“You have to take it!” Phasma encourages._

_“I will – I have to do some work on other ships, though. I can’t take the helm yet. Besides, the ship is unfinished yet. I’ve decided to join the fleet. I will be the highest ranking no matter what squadron I’m squared away to – it will be a chance to build rapport and prove my militant worth. I want you to come with me.”_

_“Skip C school? Are you out of your mind?” Phasma asks incredulously, “They’ll send you out into real battle, Hux. You won’t have –"_

_“I know,” Hux interrupts, “And we’ll… we’ll be separated for a while.”_

_Her face falls a little._

_“But, once I establish myself in the fleet, I can move you to my squadron and from there we can eventually lead the **Finalizer** together, once its construction is complete.”_

_“You’d… share the **Finalizer** with me?”_

_Hux offers her his hand to shake, “it would be an honor to serve aboard the **Finalizer** with you. Just watch. I **will** make General, and once I do, you and I will be unstoppable. Say you will stay with me.”_

_She takes his hand and gives it a firm tug, “absolutely, Hux.”_

Somewhere along the line, Kylo’s hand found its way up Hux’s arm. His hand is splayed over Hux’s exposed scar. He opens his eyes and looks at Hux – Hux is intentionally keeping his expression unreadable. He does not know what Kylo will make of all this raw, sensitive information, and he is preparing himself for any outcome.

_“Would you say you favor Captain Phasma?”_

_“Yes, I would.”_

Kylo’s thumb rubs absently over the risen skin on the satin underside of Hux’s forearm.

_“Speaking to the Commandant puts General Hux into a disagreeable mood; today will be trying for him already so do try your best to not age him more than ten years by the end of the cycle. You would do well to study his aplomb and poise.”_

Hux watches Kylo’s fingers move over his skin.

_You think of me as your friend?_

_Yes. My only friend._

_Have you ever had a friend before?_

_No._

That conversation seems much heavier now in retrospect. Much heavier now, knowing what friendship means to Hux.

_“…you know how I never finished primary schooling. Forgive my ignorance, but… what is a culling?”_

_“You mean the word or the exam?”_

_“The word.”_

_“As I have heard it used and seen it read, there are two uses for it that I know of. One, to reduce a population – usually of wild animals – by selective hunting or to send an inferior or surplus of animals to slaughter.”_

_“Did you know that? When you went into the woods that day?”_

_“Yes, I did… he did too.”_

The excitement about the cake and how Hux laughed when Phasma threatened them both for pulling pranks on the control bridge – it all is making sense to him now.

_“What am I supposed to tell the Commandant?”_

_“Oh, can’t you just tell him I died at the gala or something?”_

_“Hux…are you going to be alright when he leaves?”_

_“Why wouldn’t I be?”_

_“I owe you everything that I am, Hux. We have known each other too long for this sort of nonsense. What happened at combat training – if I had been just ten minutes late –"_

_“I know. That’s not… I know. I understand your concerns. They are unnecessary. I don’t have any desire to dismiss you – you know I take your concerns very seriously. And I couldn’t – even if I wanted to. It’s as you said; the First Order needs me now more than ever.”_

_“There is more than that, you know.”_

_“Yes, I do know. And it’s in the other room waiting for me. So, are we done here?”_

Kylo meets Hux’s eyes.

“Thank you.”

Hux nods.

“I’m worried, though.”

Hux’s forehead pinches, “worried about what?”

“Phasma doesn’t know your first name. If she is so cared for by you and you have not told her, I fear I’ll never know it.”

A shy smile starts to spread over Hux’s lips.

“That’s yet to be seen, Ren,” Hux tells him, a hopeful lilt in his voice, “There’s been missile talk, cake has been had and I’ve offered you plenty of common and personal knowledge, but I’ve neglected to share my art with you.”

Kylo’s heart reacts immediately and maybe Hux feels it too because his smile is almost flirtatious.

“If you let go of my hand, I can go get them for you to see.”

Kylo releases him instantly.

“Yes,” Kylo answers breathlessly, excited beyond reason, “Yes, of course.”

As Hux shuffles through what sounds like many papers in his bedside table, Kylo wonders if Hux is sharing all of this because he hopes Kylo will return eventually, or if he is sharing all of this because he knows Kylo won’t.

 _He has lost too many people_ , Kylo thinks to himself, _I refuse to be another._

He stares at Hux’s slim waist as he gathers slips of paper. Every line and curve of Hux is artful and at times, it is hard to choose just one line or shape of his body to look at. His hands clench and unclench nervously on the tabletop.

 _No matter what comes next, General Hux,_ Kylo swears to himself, _you’ve a Captain and a Knight and we will not leave you. We will stay with you. **I** will stay with you. Somehow. I will find a way. I always find a way._

The universe bound him to General Hux. Kylo is sure of this. The Force has been with him from his conception, and he will wield it with more power than the galaxy has ever known if it will keep him by General Hux’s side. He cannot and will not be stopped. Let chaos reign. Kylo will serve, protect and cherish General Hux as no one else can. He will be divine.

A glimpse of red hair and the sliver of a pale profile promised him this when he was Ben Solo, a young and thoughtless padawan.

This is his destiny. He can feel it.

Hux is his destiny. He knows it.

He wonders if Hux will ever feel this bond as he does now. He wonders if Hux could see their destiny in Kylo’s eyes and was compelled to draw them for that reason – perhaps Kylo’s eyes are so remarkably reflective so that Hux would see himself in Kylo. A design first drawn by the hands of fate.

Hux would laugh if Kylo shared any of this.

And Kylo wouldn’t mind.

He loves when Hux laughs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hux shares with Kylo his suicide attempt from his teenage years. What Kylo discovers through Hux's memories is that The Culling did not drive Hux to attempt suicide - his attempt happened BEFORE The Culling, but Kylo was not permitted to see the memory of what caused Hux so much distress. Kylo was able to sense that there was a traumatic event, but he was immediately blocked from seeing it. He learns that before his suicide attempt, Hux was plagued with migraines, hallucinations (both auditory and visual) and it can be assumed he had a history of dissociation. He dissociates a lot during his attempt. There is a lot of self-hate talk that Hux has with himself before, during and directly after his suicide attempt. 
> 
> If you skipped the flashback, that's all you missed! <3
> 
> incredible artwork by @pembroke! ; u ;


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TWO UPDATES IN TWO DAYS??? HOW DOES SHE DO IT????  
> she doesn't sleep.  
> that's how.  
> Anyway, enjoy the Soft Kylux while it lasts! I intend to upset you all very soon! <333
> 
> Also, yes, I know that Hux's canon name was released, but Hux's fanon name in this fic (which WILL be revealed) is super important to the storyline. So. I won't be using his canon name. Just a head's up.

Kylo’s offered five pages, but there’s an implication that more papers exist. Both sides of every sheet are covered.

To look at an interpretation of himself is strange, but not in an unwelcome way. He’s fascinated by it, really.

Hux has drawn his eyes at every possible angle and the drawings are so highly detailed, it would make Kylo self-conscious if he were capable of shame like that. Someone saner might even be alarmed – just the time that these drawings must have demanded speaks to an obsessive behavior, but nothing would elate Kylo more than to know that Hux thinks of him as much as he thinks of Hux.

Every short hair of his brows are drawn line for line and in some of the illustrations, his eyes are glaring and there is this uneven wrinkle between his brows that Hux has captured and Kylo recognizes from glimpses of his own reflection. In some of the drawings, his eyes are round and wide and tilted upward.

“Do you watch me when we’re speaking to Snoke?”

Hux leans his hip against his desk, crossing his arms.

“Occasionally.”

Kylo gives him a disbelieving stare, picking up one of the sheets of paper as if it is evidence of the contrary.

Hux has no comment, it would seem.

There is one Kylo likes above all the others. It takes up the lower right side of one sheet of paper and it is very close-up. Curls of his hair are strewn over his forehead and the light source is coming from somewhere beyond his cheekbone, making these dramatic shadows across his face. His eyes are downcast and shifted, like he might be looking to the ground.

“Are my eyelashes really so long?”

“Are you fishing for compliments?”

Kylo looks up at Hux and says in all seriousness, “no. These illustrations are more than enough.”

His face doesn’t have a scar in this drawing. In any of the drawings, actually. He wonders if Hux has illustrated him since he acquired his scar. He feels a vain insecurity rise in him, hoping Hux will still find him worth drawing despite his marred skin.

“I like this one,” he says, pointing to his favorite, “What inspired this?”

“I had been giving you an order, but you were troubled with something Snoke had spoken to you about,” Hux explains, “You weren’t paying attention. You turned your head and the light hit you just right. You didn’t notice that I’d stopped talking either. I devoted it to memory and parted ways with you to come back to my quarters and get it down on paper.”

“I like that you look at me when I don’t know it,” Kylo confesses, “You do that often?”

“Do I often find you not paying attention to your surroundings? Yes.”

A smile worms its way onto Kylo’s face; he will crack Hux’s hard outer shell yet. Hux scowls at his smile, so he goes back to looking at Hux’s artwork in an effort to feign innocence.

“Who do you think makes the Angels?”

“I wouldn’t have the slightest idea,” Hux replies, “Why?”

“Bothers me,” Kylo says absently, flipping to the back of another page, wondering how Hux manages to capture so much detail in such small spaces, “I don’t like not knowing.”

“Yes, I’ve noticed.”

“Can I keep one of these?”

Hux is quiet for a beat too long, so Kylo looks up at him from under his brow. He feels some of his hair fall by his cheek. Hux seems preoccupied with it.

“Please?”

“Why?”

“I doubt you’ll allow for me to leave with photographic memorabilia of you. If I have this, I will still have something of yours to ground me during difficult times of training.”

Once the words are out, Kylo can feel their magnitude. That he wants to take a piece of Hux with him when he leaves is a burden of a confession for Hux to carry as is, but they have also made a point to ignore how close Kylo’s impending departure is and Kylo seems to have broken the silent rule of not mentioning it.

 _That is too much pressure to put on him_ , Kylo belatedly thinks to himself, _That is unfair of me. It is not his responsibility to care after me once I’m gone._

They maintain a heavy stare for a long while. Kylo brushes Hux’s frontal lobe for just a glimpse of information, but all he can sense is partially formed doubt and anxiety, no clear or coherent thoughts offered.

“Nevermind,” Kylo says gently, “I realize this was significant for you to share and particularly to share with me. I won’t ask for more. Thank you. For letting me see this.”

Kylo stands from the table and cracks his back, then his neck, scrubbing a hand through his still-damp hair. His eyes are drawn back to the papers strewn over the tabletop.

“Do you still rise early when you’re off-duty? If you do, we should get some sleep.”

“No.”

“No, what?” Kylo asks, picking his head up.

Hux isn’t looking at him anymore.

Kylo reads over Hux’s body – his mind is a flurry, warring in a heated, silent debate and if Kylo gives him too much time to marinate in this strong doubt, Hux’s fair mood will turn bleak very quickly. More than that, Hux’s heart is beating at eighty beats per minute and Kylo can’t tell why.

He’s gripping his dog tags with white-knuckled hands and his neck and ears are red.

“Those pictures are for me. And there is no sort of photo I would care enough for to let you carry with you.”

“Alright,” Kylo replies evenly, fending off the wave of disappointment looming over him.

Hux takes off his necklace, unclips it and slides one tag off. He clips it back together and puts the single, removed tag into his desk drawer. He still doesn’t look at Kylo as he makes his way over to him.

“Kneel for me.”

Kylo obeys without hesitancy, looking up at Hux with wonder. Hux’s eyes are shut and his brows are drawn in. He looks troubled and Kylo would like to help, but Hux is a constant minefield and it’s too unsafe to go wandering into Hux’s psyche uninvited. Kylo’s been made weak from the cycle as well – healing Hux, overusing energy for recreational play, sifting through Nali’s memories, receiving Hux’s memories – he’s tired.

He can kneel, though and for Hux, he will. He can practice patience and for Hux, he will. He can wait. For Hux, he can do anything.

Hux opens his eyes and his hands have that tremor again – the same tremor Kylo saw in them when after the gala, Hux bandaged his wounds. He wonders if it’s worth bringing to Hux’s attention. It’s clearly a nervous tic. It happened too when they spoke to the Commandant. He does not want to be something that makes Hux nervous this way.

Between dexterous fingers, Hux presents the single tag now still on the chain.

**Squadron 852**

**1172-955-0007-54**

**Homeworld: Arkanis**

**Eye Color: Blue Height: 1.87 meters**

**Organ Donor: Yes Blood Type: O Neg**

**Religion: Unspecified**

“The other tag has my full name, birth date, rank, species and specializations,” Hux explains.

Kylo moves his eyes from the writing on the tag to Hux’s face.

“Okay.”

Hux’s hands still shake as he moves his fingers from the tag to the clasp of the chain. He uses both hands to spread the chain and then neatly slides it over Kylo’s hair and lets it fall over his neck, his shoulders and the moment the tag lands with a light pat against Kylo’s chest, he understands what’s happening.

His chest feels like it might expand, like wings folded between his ribs are suddenly spreading out for the first time. His face feels hot and his eyes feel too open.

“Th-that you can take,” Hux says hurriedly, taking his shaking hands away.

His left hand comes to touch at his bare neck.

He must feel strange without his dog tags on.

And anyone else might say that without those tags and without his uniform, Hux looks like an ordinary man. He looks unremarkable – a man you might pass on a common street and not think twice about but Kylo sees something else entirely.

He has clawed for acceptance his entire life. He has wanted so desperately for validation, for honor and now he wears it around his neck as if it were owed to him. And the short-tempered, beautiful, unendingly fascinating and terrifying deity of ruination that walks and talks like a human man has given it to him.

Hux is set aglow by the stars through his viewport, his eyes flickering blue flames – he is no ordinary man.

He never has been.

“… you’re giving me your dog tags?”

Hux might rip them right back in regret, but Kylo doesn’t think he will. He feels safe to ask Hux because he needs to know for sure. He needs to know that he can truly keep this. Before he touches the tags to his fingertips for the first time and grows attached, before he falls asleep and wakes with the weight of Hux’s homeworld, blood and Atheism on his chest. Before he becomes accustomed to the white gold and cherishes it as deeply and immediately as he does Hux himself.

“You wanted… you said you wanted memorabilia, right?”

“Yes, but I don’t mean to force you to –“

“You couldn’t _force_ me to do anything even if you _did_ mean to, you imbecile.”

Kylo blinks, sees that screwed up almost-smile on Hux’s lips and smiles widely in return. He surges to his feet and throws his arms around Hux in an embrace that manages to lift Hux off the floor.

Hux’s hands come to Kylo’s shoulders in a panic at first and once Kylo starts to mutter his undying gratitude into the hallow of Hux’s neck, Hux starts cursing at Kylo to let him down.

“You cannot know what this gift means to me,” Kylo tells him reverently.

“Perhaps not, but you know what I _do_ know? I know twenty-three ways of killing a man from this position, Ren, and don’t think for a moment that I will hesitate to prove so if you do not _put me down this instant_.”

“This is a fine way to die,” Kylo tells him, still unable to stop smiling.

He pulls back enough to look up at Hux; Hux’s face is bright red and he’s glaring dangerously. His blush spreads all the way from his face, down his neck and past the collar of his shirt. He looks furious and Kylo has only ever known how to stoke a fire, never known how to put one out.

“And once you’ve killed me, I’ll visit you as Force ghost and finally prove to you that there is an afterlife.”

Kylo is rewarded for his offer by getting smacked upside the head.

He laughs again, overcome with _so much_.

He feels this hurricane storming inside him, winds of excitement and gladness like he has never known before whipping around, the pounding rain of his heart and the way just Hux’s voice makes admiration strike like lightning through it all. There has always been a storm raging inside Kylo, but it has never been exciting. It has never been thrilling and wonderful as it is now.

He wants to kiss Hux.

More than ever and more than anything.

He wants to lower Hux down just those few inches, stretch his neck just enough and press his lips against Hux’s. He wants to be tender with Hux. He wants to pet Hux’s hair back and stay so close to him that he can spot those silver speckles in the multitudes of blues that make up Hux’s eyes.

Hux’s back is slim and his frame is small, but strong. It feels so right to Kylo, to have Hux in his arms like this. He knows he cannot go sleuthing through Hux’s mind to see if that feeling is at all reciprocated and he knows that now more than ever – his patience has finally been rewarded.

He was permitted to see Hux’s art, he’s met Millicent, Hux has shared some of his most intimate memories with him of his own volition and now he has given Kylo something with more worth than Hux likely knows.

Kylo can sense that this chain and tag will see him through the coldest nights. All he will have to do is touch it and he will be taken back here, back to this moment where Hux was in his arms and everything that once was wrong with the universe was set right.

Where his stomach was full of sugar at a late hour like a careless child, where it was sore too for having laughed so much all that day, where his feet and legs were aching from how much he sparred and danced, where his heart pounded so hard he thought he might die and that would still be fine. If death would be so warm, if death felt like Hux’s hands on his shoulders and Hux’s body pressed up against his and Hux’s chain around his neck, then he would welcome death with open arms.

“Your eyes are so beautiful, Hux.”

“I will _destroy_ you, Ren.”

 _Yes. Yes, you might_ , Kylo thinks to himself.

He laughs again and finally puts Hux back on his feet. Hux brushes at himself in that compulsive way he does, like dust or dirt might have gotten on his sleepwear and Kylo realizes just how well he has come to know Hux.

It wasn’t really so long ago that Hux was a virtual stranger to him. Cold, annoying and clipped, arrogant, so positive he was always right about everything – that used to be all Kylo knew of him.

And Hux _is_ cold, his holier-than-thou attitude _is_ annoying, he _is_ clipped with a short fuse, he _is_ arrogant and what’s worse about him always being positive that he’s right about everything is that he usually _is_.

There is more, though. So much more.

Beyond that, he is frighteningly intelligent, he is well-spoken, well-read and when he teaches Kylo about light travel or Nali how to dance he is a bottomless well of patience. He’s graceful, knows well how to hide in plain sight, likes his caf bitter and knows at least a hundred different ways to call someone an idiot.

His trust, his good favor and his attention is so hard-earned, there are people too weak of will to ever deserve it. He is driven, much too easy to sneak up on when his mind is on work, manipulative, controlled and his laughter is shy, unsure of its welcome and so beautiful. His smile could light the galaxy, his hands shake when he’s nervous, there are freckles at the turn of his jaw that no one seems to notice and he has trained his heart to have a resting rate of thirty-three beats per minute.

But for Kylo, sometimes Hux’s heart beats as many as eighty times a minute.

His palms are soft and he’s unable to care about the lives or wellness of anyone outside himself and the very few he elects worthy enough of his regard. He can tame wild beasts, lead an infantry just as well as he can engineer devastating weapons and he’ll never admit it, but he likes for his hands to be held.

He is the most loyal and most perfect companion, rarity that his friendship is, he has a sweet tooth and fears his father more than any degree of pain or any form of death. He has endured and he will endure more. He has overcome and there is still so much he has yet to face. He rarely pities and would rather bleed and bruise before someone showed him pity either, his lips are full, his eyes are poetry in motion and there are beautiful veins in his arms.

“Hux?”

“Yes?”

“What is a ‘gripe?’”

Hux quirks a brow at him, straightening out his nightshirt.

“In what context?”

“I heard you say it once,” Kylo admits, “You were fixing something in a control panel, talking to a few engineers and you said something about how you thought you’d be done with gripes after training. They laughed.”

Tilting his head curiously, Hux allows himself a small smile and replies, “a gripe is when something is wrong with the internal wiring of an aircraft. It’s engineer jargon. They laughed because a gripe is much more complicated to fix than the wiring in a control panel, but they were all still struggling with whatever was wrong with it for so long that it may as well have been a gripe on an aircraft. Why do you ask?”

Kylo shrugs, “I have wanted to know ever since I first heard you say it.”

“Why didn’t you ask me then?”

“We weren’t friends then.”

Hux looks down at the shine of his dog tag now on Kylo’s chest and responds, “fair enough.”

It’s no surprise that Millicent remains with Hux on his bed once they’ve separated to sleep, but she does stop by the couch to stare at Kylo in confusion.

 _I am staying here for a while_ , he sends to her, hoping she’ll somehow understand.

She seems to. She rubs her face against his hand that hangs lazily over the side of the couch and then leaves him so that she can go sleep directly on top of Hux’s chest. From the common area, Kylo is able to hear Hux grumble sleepily at her that she should outgrow this childish behavior.

“Don’t shame her,” Kylo calls out, smiling to himself.

“Fuck off, Ren.”

Kylo chuckles to himself and touches at Hux’s dog tag, looking up at the ceiling.

“I wish you sweet dreams as well, Hux.”

“I can still kill you in your sleep, Ren.”

“Friends don’t kill friends, Hux.”

“Like you’d know anything about that.”

“Always so rude.”

“Oh, stars – go to sleep, Ren! Or at least let _me_ get some sleep before you start harassing me again.”

“Is that explicit permission to harass you more once we wake?”

There’s a moment of a silence and then a boot very nearly hits Kylo’s head. He sits up and turns over the arm of the couch to look at Hux through the darkness. He can see Hux very clearly, but with only the dim lighting from his viewport, Hux can hardly see him.

“Now, Hux, what sort of example is that to set for your adoptive cat?”

“I hate you so much.”

“Clearly. You nearly hit me in the head with your boot.”

“I missed?” Hux asks sadly, “Only because I’m tired. You won’t be so lucky next time.”

“Right,” Kylo replies, smiling warmly, “Rest well, Hux.”

Hux sighs and he means for it to sound exasperated, but it only sounds endeared – Kylo has never enjoyed himself so much. He has never enjoyed another human so much.

“Yes, rest well, Ren.”

That wish is genuine, but Hux’s well wishes cannot control the ways of the Force. Kylo holds Hux’s dog tag through his sleep and when he dreams, visions come to him. Some familiar and some new. He sees debris from memories he absorbed all that day; corridors clearly from Hux’s memories, the tall trees and ominous woods where The Culling takes place. He hears Phasma and Hux joking and being shushed in a library.

He sees the silhouette of Han Solo, seated in the pilot’s chair of his old, battered ship.

He dreams of the green lightsaber.

He dreams of the green lightsaber bearing down against his.

He dreams of the green lightsaber being thrust through someone’s chest.

Hux’s chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beautiful, beautiful artwork done by queenstardust of Tumblr! ; u ;


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hux’s song is [‘Song for Zula’ by Phosphorescent](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w2MnJGBpSR4).

The cold sweat and heart palpitations wake Kylo before Hux.

He sits up, brushes away some sweat that has pooled in the indents of his collarbone and then shuts his eyes, seeking guidance through the Force. He needs instructions, he needs directions – he needs answers.

All he feels is the Light.

His teeth grind, but he follows it. He cannot neglect it – not if it will answer him in this hour of need. He can feel his naked feet pad across the chilled floor of Hux’s quarters, his arms feel light, bloodless and the very center of his chest feels heavy and invisibly tugged forward. As if there is an anchor situated between his lungs and someone is drawing the chain of it back upward to surface him.

He blindly reaches his right arm out and his fingertips touch the protective, transparent shield of Hux’s viewport. His palm feels hot against it and the weight of Snoke’s presence is dangerously far from his mind. He can typically feel Snoke close by in states like this, but Snoke’s presence is nowhere near.

_Who wields this lightsaber_ , Kylo asks the void.

There is no response.

_Who means to bring harm to Hux_ , Kylo demands the void to tell him.

No answer comes.

_Is this Force user stronger than me_ , Kylo begs the void.

Still, nothing.

_It is the scavenger, isn’t it_ Kylo asks, inner-voice laced with vitriol.

He can see her suddenly – there are long plains and ranges of mountains. It is daylight where she is, an unforgiving sun is bearing down on her. She is with Luke Skywalker. He is training her in how to wield her newly-constructed lightsaber.

It is double-ended with a silver middle and both ends of it glow jade.

Kylo’s hand curls into a fist, shaking with rage.

_I knew it. I **knew** it. That despicable, mindless – I will kill her. I have deterred death before and I will again. I **will** protect Hux, no matter the cost._

He feels a pressure then, something urgent, something trying to reach him.

It is similar to the pressure he felt against his energy when Hux was searching for him on Starkiller, but it is very clearly another entity.

His brow furrows and he tries to reach back, unsure of what or who might be trying to contact him.

Kylo senses Snoke again and in an instant the sensation is gone; in its wake, Kylo feels a hot-cold mix of rage, desperation and panic. He cannot allow anything to happen to Hux. He swore to protect Hux and Hux _trusts him_ to. 

Kylo opens his eyes.

Beyond some cosmic dust, he swears he can see a dark matter halo. 

He knows Snoke is listening to him.

“I will kill her.”

“Mm, kill who?”

“Hux?”

Kylo drops his arm to his side and looks to see Hux blinking blearily at him.

“Is her death very important? Something that can wait a little longer, maybe?”

Tilting his head, Kylo feels the chain of Hux’s dog tags against his skin and just the feel of it against him cools his boiling rage. He breathes in deeply, exhales slowly and attempts to make his face as gentle and open as possible.

“No. Her death is not for you to worry over, my dear General. You’re off-duty.”

Hux stretches, disturbing Millicent and encouraging her to jump off of him and find herself a less-movement-prone spot to sleep in by the corner of his bed. His eyes still shut and his arms lazily strewn above his head, Hux replies, “you and I both.”

“I am your Knight, Hux,” Kylo responds simply and truthfully, “I am ever-vigilant. There is no time for me to be off-duty.”

“You danced and ate cake this past cycle, you call that working?”

“My eyes did not leave you for a moment, Hux. Just because I’m not holding my saber to everyone that walks within ten feet of you doesn’t mean I’m not daring them to test me.”

Hux makes this sleepy, high-pitched laugh and he turns onto his side, facing Kylo, his eyes still shut.

“How very reassuring.”

“How do you have the energy to be sarcastic? You’re barely conscious right now.”

“You make it too easy.”

Kylo walks over to Hux, checks Hux’s glowing clock and squats so that his face is level with Hux’s when he says, “you’ve got three hours more to rest before I’m allowed to harass you again.”

“What exactly do you call this?” Hux mumbles into his pillow.

“Would you like to spend time in your illusion when you wake?”

“Mm,” Hux hums pleasantly, nuzzling into his pillow, “that sounds peaceful. Yes.”

“And what sweets might you like?”

“Ice cream.”

Kylo smiles, the chilling vision from his sleep now haunting the forefront of his mind and the overbearing sense of responsibility lurking behind him, but Hux’s sleep-rasped voice like the glow of a private fireplace, warming his face and keeping his fear at bay. 

“And you will meditate with me?”

“If I must,” Hux sighs, “I’m really not good at it.”

“I will help you,” Kylo insists, “I will teach you. And perhaps if I teach you well enough, we might be able to stay in better contact once I am planet-side.”

Hux opens his eyes to this. Still lidded and tired, but focused.

“You mean to say that if I master your meditation, I will be able to communicate with you telepathically?” 

“No,” Kylo answers regretfully, “It is difficult to explain. I will teach you when we wake for the day. Deal?”

“Deal,” Hux replies, fatigued and shutting his eyes again already.

With a wave of his hand, Kylo renders Hux dreamless and restful. 

He looks at Millicent. Her eyes glow in the dark of Hux’s room.

“I told you he has nothing to fear. I told you I would make it so. I may not be good for much, but my word to him is something you can trust.”

Millicent blinks slowly at him and then shuts her eyes and lowers her head onto her paws, curling up pleasantly. Kylo struggles to return to the couch, feeling restless and wanting to find Rey this instant. Hux’s fear of the gala was well-hidden, but Kylo was able to sense it still and he knows now, based on Hux’s own attempts at his life, he does not want to die violently. 

Deep down, Hux thinks he is _meant_ to die violently – that there is no other way for him to die, but Kylo will protect him. Hux may have trouble believing that still, but Kylo will protect him. 

After a few more fitful hours of sleep, Hux wakes Kylo by scrambling his already sleep-mussed hair and telling him to get dressed so they can eat. Phasma joins them at breakfast, looking pale and exhausted. Hux laughs at her and she seems to want to be angry with him for it, but she is so pleased by the rare sound of his laughter that she lets him off the hook with only a sarcastic jab. 

While they’re at the table, Hux hooks his boot around Kylo’s for his attention. Kylo glances at him, sees Hux still engaged with Phasma and so reaches into his mind.

_What is it?_

_I’d like to go to Naalol today_ , Hux responds, _I’d like to see the Angels again._

_Should we pack food? Make a day of it?_

_Yes. I’d like that._

Despite answering him and the conversation ending there, Hux keeps his foot around Kylo’s ankle. Kylo thinks that if Snoke himself were to appear before them and ask him to stand, he wouldn’t – he couldn’t. Hux wants him to stay where he is. 

How long ago was it that Kylo would have gladly beheaded Hux if Snoke so much as implied it might amuse him?

Kylo knows it could not have been so long ago, but here he is. Anchored to his seat by just the twine of legs.

When Hux asks after Haas, Phasma explains that he followed Hux’s orders the previous cycle but took ill for the rest of the evening. Hux laments on the boy’s weak will and squeamishness – Kylo explains without explaining, “the kill felt too personal to him. He doesn’t like being so up-close with his victims. Particularly women.”

Phasma wants to ask Kylo why and how he knows this, but thinks better of it. As accustomed as she’s become to Kylo, the things he chooses to say and not, she is still wary of him. He used to think that had to do with her own sense of safety, but Kylo thinks now it has much more to do with Hux.

He has watched Phasma train with Nali countless times now – she would make a formidable foe and though she could not defeat him, she would be an honorable fighter and certainly wouldn’t be afraid to attack him on behalf of Hux. Kylo knows how he comes across – how he has always come across to people. People have always feared him. 

They have always been quick to judge his silence and want for solitude, they have always given off an air of self-righteousness when they looked down their noses at him, always thought of him as strange and somehow beneath them. And strange has always meant dangerous. 

If everyone expected him to be dangerous, why should he disappoint them?

Phasma’s concerns are not baseless and Kylo knows that much. He has yet to truly prove himself – the gala was a step in the right direction, but Phasma didn’t seem all too impressed with him. Grateful, yes, but not grateful enough to put her faith in him as Hux has and she seems fearful that Hux has chosen to put his faith in Kylo at all. 

He will prove her wrong.

He and Hux dress down for the day – mostly meaning that Kylo borrows an old, loose-fitting shirt of Hux’s and his own pants and boots. Hux doesn’t comb back his hair, though and he looks strangely young with it framing his handsome face, dry and loose like Kylo’s hair. 

They meditate on their way to Naalol and Kylo tries to help clear Hux’s mind, but it is as difficult as ever. As soon as Hux just begins to crest and fall into clarity, his mind becomes bombarded with worries and worries of pointless things – meetings that must be scheduled and attended, inboxes that must be replied to, wondering what time it is, wondering what time is most suitable to reconnect with Krin and how he will go about securing her funds.

Kylo’s mind has the tendency to messy itself, but at least with more existential issues that matter. Hux’s mind – it’s as if Hux doesn’t want clarity or is frightened of it and so unconsciously sabotages any progress. Kylo prefers his spinal cord intact, so he doesn’t insinuate to Hux that Hux’s meditative block might be caused by an underlying fear. He instead finds new ways of helping him.

After they land, they make the climb to the Angels and admire them for a long while before sitting down again. As Hux sits down, though, Kylo instructs him to take off his shirt.

“What are you planning?” Hux asks suspiciously.

“Nothing untoward,” Kylo smirks, “I am going to help you meditate.”

Hux hesitates, but eventually mumbles, “alright,” and pretzels his legs, lying his forearms out on his thighs with his hands facing upward and open as Kylo has taught him. His form is good, his posture is firm, but his forehead still seems too concentrated. 

“Don’t be alarmed,” Kylo starts, coming to stand behind Hux, “I am going to sit behind you and show you something new.”

“Okay,” Hux replies.

Kylo spreads his own legs around Hux’s, keeps his chest from touching Hux’s back as much as he can and, though he’s tempted to rest his chin on Hux’s shoulder, he doesn’t. When his hair brushes against Hux’s neck, Hux intakes sharply and Kylo reminds him to relax. Hux curses at him and Kylo smiles, “you’re too tense.”

“You’re the one acting strange.”

“Pay attention,” Kylo instructs, moving his right arm beneath Hux’s and splaying his hand over the middle and bottom of Hux’s breastbone, “Do you know what the vagus nerve is?”

“No,” Hux answers, his throat sounding tight.

Kylo focuses the pressure of three fingertips onto that center at Hux’s chest and tells him, “you ought to – you’ve mastered its use before.”

“How do you mean?”

“Besides being particularly helpful in meditation and relaxation, the vagus nerve has several jobs. For one, it elicits the neurotransmitter acetylcholine, which tells your lungs to breathe on their own. By stimulating the vagus nerve you can make it release the neurotransmitter norepinephrine into the amygdala, consolidating memories, so it’s also important there. More relevant to you, it’s also very intimate with the heart; the vagus nerve is responsible for controlling the heart rate through electrical impulses to the sinoatrial node of the heart. That is the part of your vagus nerve that you’ve mastered, seeing as you can will your heart to beat as slowly as you like.”

“And what does this have to do with meditation?” Hux asks anxiously.

“Relax your brow.”

“You’re behind me, you can’t even see me.”

“I can feel it from here – relax your brow.”

Hux sighs again, but visibly slackens. He lets his shoulders unstiffen and allows for his head to loll forward a little. Kylo’s lips are dangerously close to the skin of Hux’s neck and he has never before had the impulse to kiss a neck, but the impulse is certainly present now. He likes that Hux has freckles on the back of his neck. He thinks that is probably a detail of Hux’s physical being that few to none know and he is glad to know it.

He rubs his fingers in circles and stares at Hux’s jugular as he lectures, “the vagus nerve is important to meditation, for those that struggle with it, because it can be manually engaged. And when it is manually engaged, as I’m doing now, it releases acetylcholine. The tendrils of the vagus nerve extend to many organs, from the base of your skull, down to your gut. The tendrils act like fiberoptic cables, sending instructions to release enzymes and proteins like prolactin, vasopressin, and oxytocin, which calm you down.”

“Oxytocin?” Hux asks, his voice lower than before, “Isn’t that the pleasure hormone?”

“I have only been taught that it helps relax. What do you know of it?”

“I know oxytocin is released during orgasm,” Hux explains calmly, “The fatigue that follows must be connected to its ability to calm the nervous system. Interesting.”

Desperate for Hux to stop talking about sex, Kylo redirects his attention, “now, breathe in for a count of four into your diaphragm and then breathe out for a count of eight. In through your nose and out through your mouth.”

Hux follows the instructions and Kylo’s eyes flicker to his twitching hands, rested on his knees. He keeps rubbing at where he knows the vagus nerve is on Hux and listens incredulously as Hux’s heart slows down to twenty-eight beats per minute. He wants to marvel at it, but is afraid that him speaking will excite Hux’s heart again. To have it so slow and still be awake is strange, but impressive. 

Kylo thinks that Hux might have the ability to fool others into thinking he is dead if he so desired.

Without explicit permission, Kylo allows himself into Hux’s mind, watching the useless debris fall away. His mind is organized beautifully as always and now, between spaces of compartmentalized thoughts, Hux is clearing an area for tranquility. It resembles their illusion.

Kylo feels a rush of pride.

_I’m going to move your head now. Focus on this clarity. You’re doing wonderfully._

_Thank you._

Kylo slithers his right arm out from under Hux’s and crosses it over Hux’s chest, reaching up toward Hux’s face. He plants the tips of his thumb and ring finger at the inner corners of Hux’s shut eyes and his middle and forefinger onto the space between his brows. He applies light pressure and with his left hand, he cups the base of Hux’s skull, slowly tilting his head back.

“There you are,” Kylo whispers encouragingly. 

Kylo shuts his eyes and levels his breathing with Hux’s. Once they’re breathing in time, he extends himself, as if he had another set of arms and wraps them around Hux’s torso. He waits a few beats.

“Can you sense me?”

_You have your arms around my middle._

_No, I don’t._

Kylo senses dulled confusion followed quickly by a spark of intrigue and pride. 

_No. Your hands are at the base of my head and around my eyes._

_Yes_ , Kylo answers.

_What is it I’m feeling then?_

_My energy_ , Kylo tells him, _You are allowing the Force to influence your body. You are not Force sensitive, but you can allow yourself to remain open to its interactions with you. That is what you are feeling._

_Fascinating._

Kylo feels himself smile and he realizes his skin is moving against Hux’s skin, but he can’t bring himself to care. His lips are just brushing Hux’s neck, but Hux is too deep now into a half-hypnotic rest to feel it.

And Kylo feels so at rest…

Time slips from him once he has that thought, but no visions of the future come to haunt him. 

_“Have you ever heard a saying; that the devil’s greatest trick was convincing the world he did not exist?”_

_“In this scenario, you are the devil, then?”_

_“Mind tricks will not do. I would like your introduction into the Force to be memorable and inarguably fascinating. You will not need to pretend to be impressed. So, nevermind the mind tricks. Allow me to show you an illusion, instead.”_

Finally, Hux _sees_ , Hux _feels_ the promise and power of the Force and it is just skimming the surface. It is just the little that Kylo can show him of it and he is finally impressed. He is finally fascinated and Kylo doesn’t think he’s overstating his own importance to Hux when he considers himself and the time spent with Hux as memorable to them both.

He doesn’t remember moving his arms, but they find their way loosely wrapped around Hux’s stomach, his chest is pressed against Hux’s back and his face is laid over Hux’s shoulder. 

He’s only able to come back to his physical self when he feels a tear fall down his face and he’s so entwined with Hux’s energy that he can feel the tear fall onto Hux’s shoulder as if it were his own. 

_What’s wrong_ , Hux asks, inner voice placid and welcoming.

_I have never been so at rest before._

He remembers slashing rooms apart, remembers how Ben Solo would scream at Luke, at Han, at Leia, how his tears used to be so frequent, how his heart hammered and his stomach twisted and then how he was sent away. Rejected. Forgotten. Exiled.

He remembers all of those watchful eyes, unnerved by his power, keeping secrets from him, isolating him, ostracizing him, how weak, pitiful, helpless and hopeless Ben Solo once felt. 

The loneliness could have driven him insane, without a single kindred spirit to rely on and no ability to place his trust in others. He remembers how the very ground would shake when he was enraged, how walls would crumble, how desperate he was for human connection and how few tools he had with which to obtain it.

He remembers Ben Solo’s unbearable rage, how it was freezing and boiling all at once and it felt directionless, homeless – like a furious river that had no outlet. 

It all seems so far and so long ago now.

As if that person truly is dead – as if his body is not a home to be haunted anymore. As if the sacred incense of Hux’s natural musk and alluring cologne cleansed him of Ben’s restless spirit and Hux’s faith in him has brought Kylo – _Kylo Ren_ – to life. He feels resurrected, he feels real for the first time in maybe his entire life and he holds Hux more tightly to him, his lashes clump together wetly and he answers Hux again.

_I have never known peace like this._

_Have I given that to you?_

_Yes. I think you have._

_Then you will miss my company?_

_Of course._

_Good._

Hux doesn’t sound vindictive in his response. His tone is conflicted. Perhaps he only wants to know that he is important to Kylo; Kylo knows no other ways of showing Hux just how important he is, so he doesn’t extend that conversation. 

They meditate for a long while like that, the sun is fair and the wind is calm, there is the sound of water from somewhere far off and Kylo is permitted to hold Hux as he does. Hux says and does nothing to stop him or even insinuate that he is displeased by Kylo’s physicality at all.

When they separate, Hux doesn’t comment on Kylo’s watery eyes and he doesn’t draw attention to how intimately Kylo had been holding him. Rather, he tells Kylo he wants to find an open field and expand their illusion. And like a show pet, Kylo is eager to please Hux and does as he’s been asked. 

The day on Naalol is long and their laughter at times is heavy with the anticipation of Kylo’s impending departure and Kylo alone shoulders the weight of his visions. He doesn’t want to burden Hux with more fear.

“You won’t be able to communicate to me telepathically,” Kylo explains while they eat their lunches within his illusion, “but if you meditate regularly like that and I reach out for your energy, I might be able to attach myself to yours and communicate with you that way.”

Hux agrees to meditate as much as he can, leave himself open to the influence of the Force and Kylo has never known a parting more regretful. They walk through the garden of Angels a last time and Kylo can sense Hux cataloging the information, filing it away like he does everything – clinical and unattached, but still somehow allowing for intrigue.

When they arrive back on _Aurora_ , they talk over dinner and Kylo asks questions he’s been too embarrassed to ask before – things most people learn in primary school. Hux answers him eloquently and patiently; he even seems glad to be of service. Kylo sometimes catches Hux staring at the chain once belonging to him now hanging from Kylo’s neck. He wonders if Hux wants it back, but doesn’t dare ask.

He can’t give it back now anyway. He would sooner destroy it than have it taken from him. 

At some point, Hux gets a comm from Phasma, barking at him to respond to the Commandant’s inboxes before she loses her mind from all the stress. He sighs long-sufferingly and sits down at his desk, typing something into a holopad. While he does, Kylo welcomes himself onto Hux’s luxurious bed where Millicent presents her stomach for rubbing. 

He indulges her and her loud purring fills the room.

It’s calm.

Hux is at work, but his meditation from earlier that day has allowed for him to keep better control of his anxiety and he even smiles as he types, happy to hear Millicent enjoying herself. The room is dimly lit, the viewport offers long expanses of multicolored nebulae to admire and Kylo is lounging on his side, his head propped up by his left arm and his right hand busy with scratching gently at Millicent’s belly. 

“I wish I had known things could be like this earlier.”

Hux looks up from his holopad, though Kylo doesn’t move his eyes from the viewport. Hux readjusts his seat and replies, “I think it’s as you explained Force meditation to me – it only reveals itself when it’s ready to and it takes however much time it likes to do so. Perhaps we weren’t meant to know this until now. Doesn’t mean we can’t appreciate it for what time is left.”

“Very little of it,” Kylo mumbles, looking down at Millicent’s squinting eyes.

“Stay like that.”

“Hmm?”

There’s a few noises of shuffling and Kylo watches intently as Hux pulls out paper and pencil. He sets his holopad aside and starts blocking out shapes Kylo can’t see from his position.

“Are you drawing me?”

“Would you prefer I not?”

He and Hux make meaningful eye-contact and Kylo shakes his head, “…no, please – go ahead.”

And Hux takes the advice. 

They trade quiet words for an hour or so while Hux sketches and Kylo laughs lowly and softly every time Hux scolds Millicent for stretching or changing position. Hux calls in tea for them after a while, massaging his wrist and complaining about the mass of inboxes he has to get to the next cycle, how useless the engineers are, how spoiled he’s become from Kylo’s ability to get him off work. 

Hux takes a seat on his bed and Millicent leaves them to curl up on the couch. Kylo moves further down the bed, closest to the wall to make room for Hux, who eventually lowers himself down onto the plush sheets and sighs.

“What will I do with you gone?” Hux asks no one in particular, “Regain control of my ship and reestablish some order around here, but to what end?”

As if power is somehow a bore to him now.

There is some silence and then Kylo says, as if neither of them were aware before, “I leave next cycle.”

“Yes,” Hux replies stoically, “You do. Are you frightened?”

“What is there to be frightened of?”

“Torture, deprivation chambers, Supreme Leader – do you really need a list?”

Kylo smiles gently at him and says, “no. I am not frightened. Do you think I ought to be?”

Hux shrugs, makes some noncommittal sound and says nothing else.

Feeling daring, Kylo confesses, “I heard you humming when you bathed. Do you sing?”

“You were listening?”

“Unintentionally,” Kylo tells him honestly, “I wasn’t listening for it as much as it came to me. Do you, though?”

“I only know one song.”

Kylo quirks a brow at Hux, turning his head on Hux’s pillow to better face him.

“Only the one? Why?”

“I don’t know,” Hux answers, looking up at his ceiling, “I heard it once – I was young and I can’t even recall where exactly I heard it from. But I remember all of the notes very clearly, all of the instruments and lyrics. But I only know that one. With work like mine, I go many days without speaking to people at times and during those times, singing to myself is the only way to hear my own voice.”

“Will you sing it for me?”

Hux turns his head finally to look at Kylo.

“Are you being serious?”

“Entirely.”

“Ren, I am a General of the First Order, not a rented songbird.”

“You’re no General of any Order right now,” Kylo corrects, “You’re off-duty. Right now, you are just my friend. So, will you sing it for me?”

Hux is alarmed for a few seconds, maybe humbled, but lets his anxiety pass through him like a ghost. His earlier meditation is still having a comforting effect on him, keeping his stress low and his mind open. There is an energy surrounding them like a bubble, but much stronger – a fortress of time. And nothing outside of it matters.

Kylo wishes it could remain this way for much longer than it’s meant to.

“Fine, but you are not permitted to mock me.”

“I would never dream of it.”

Hux gives him a dry look and then shuts his eyes, facing the ceiling again. 

Kylo watches how Hux’s eyes move beneath their lids, how his opaque lashes spread over the tired lines under his eyes and how pink the tips of his ears turn. He watches Hux swallow, sees his throat bob and senses his heart; thirty-eight beats per minute. Not all that high, but not as low as it usually is.

Very gradually, Kylo can hear instrumentals thrumming from Hux – the music he remembers from some indistinct time is playing in his head, flooding into Kylo’s mind and setting a tune and a beat that his thumbs keep in time to upon his chest. There are strings and synthesized instruments and it is much more peaceful than Kylo would have thought Hux’s tastes allowed for.

“ _Some say love is a burning thing, that it makes a fiery ring._

_Oh, but I know love as a fading thing. Just as fickle as a feather in a stream._

_See, honey, I saw love. You see, it came to me._

_It put its face up to my face so I could see._

_Yeah, then I saw love… disfigure me…into something I am not recognizing_ …”

Kylo tries to search the music for a memory, a place or an age, but he can’t put his finger on anything. There doesn’t appear to be any trauma attached to it that is blocking the other details – Hux truly doesn’t know how he knows this song anymore. He only seems to know that he heard it once, dedicated it to memory and sang it so many times since then that the words come to his lips as naturally as breathing.

“ _See, the cage, it called. I said, “Come on in.”_

_I will not open myself up this way again._

_Nor lay my face to the soil, nor my teeth to the sand._

_I will not lay like this for days now upon end._

_You will not see me fall, nor see me struggle to stand, to be acknowledged by some touch from his gnarled hands._

_You see, the cage, it called. I said, “Come on in…”_

_I will not open myself up this way again_ …”

The music in Hux’s head is loud and clear and more than it makes Kylo’s heart ache, it seems to make Hux’s heart ache too. Perhaps that’s why Hux remembers it so vividly – not for what was happening around him, who he was at the time, what he was going through or why, but for how it made him feel. How it still seems to make him feel.

“ _You see, the moon is bright in that treetop night._

_I see the shadows that we cast in the cold, clean light._

_My feet are gold and my heart is white, and we race out on the desert plains all night._

_See, honey, I am not some broken thing…_

_I do not lay here in the dark waiting for thee._

_No my heart is gold and my feet are light and I am racing out on the desert plains all night_ …”

Hux’s fingers stop tapping in time to the rhythm, his hands going still over his chest and while his cheeks are flustered with embarrassment, he finishes with a steady voice, low and beautiful with shy vibrato, “ _So, some say love is a burning thing. That it makes a fiery ring. Oh, but I know love as a caging thing. Just a killer come to call from some awful dream. Oh, and all you folks, you come to see - you just stand there in the glass looking at me, but my heart is wild. And my bones are steam. And I could kill you with my bare hands if I was free_ …”

After a few moments of silence have passed, Kylo realizes Hux is too bashful to open his eyes again. It’s endearing.

_You have a beautiful singing voice._

_No, I don’t._

_Yes, you do. I’m honored to have heard it._

_Shut up, Ren._

_Why do you think that song has remained with you for so long?_

_I don’t know_ , Hux lies.

Kylo reaches over and brushes some red hair from Hux’s forehead as Hux often does to him. Hux does open his eyes to that and finds Kylo’s; his heart may be calm, but when he looks at Kylo, he is looking vulnerable and defensive eyes.

“You have given me so much and I feel like I’ll be parting at the start of the next cycle without having left you anything of significance.”

“Like you’d ever have something I’d want,” Hux rolls his eyes, finding a reason to look down at his fiddling hands.

“There is one thing I am frightened of.”

Hux looks at Kylo again and Kylo finds that he is the one unable to maintain eye-contact now. He looks down at the bedding and admits, “I think I fooled myself into believing I had known what loneliness was before having known you as I do now and I am frightened that when I leave… that’s when I’ll truly know what loneliness is.”

Hux’s brow furrows worriedly and very nearly inaudibly, he apologizes. Kylo asks him why he would and Hux shakes his head, looking confused himself.

“I don’t know. It feels like it’s my fault.”

“You should consider Nali’s hypothesis.”

“Which one, exactly?”

“The one about us being soul mates.”

Hux shoves Kylo in the chest, finding him too dense and sturdy to throw over and getting frustrated over it, complaining that he’s made of rocks. Hux starts in on another tangent about the mathematical improbability of soul mates and Kylo only smiles gently in return.

Missing Hux will be missing a part of his own self.

He thinks of Hux’s greatcoat, hanging in the closet of his quarters.

He thinks of Hux’s greatcoat fluttering over him in the whipping winds on Starkiller.

He remembers how warm and sacred it felt, being huddled into that coat and so close too to Hux’s heart.

He remembers how worried Hux was and how angrily he cursed at his officers over the comm when he thought they might leave without him. 

He can still hear the music playing from the back of Hux’s mind. 

He can feel the snow falling around him, the pain throbbing from his waist and shoulder. He can feel Hux’s anxiety and hesitance when he first tried to cleanse Hux of his phobia, he can feel Hux’s fingers choosing to twine with his while they walked through their illusion. He can see the way Hux’s eyes shimmered as he admired the Angels, he can feel Hux’s arms wrapping around him, how Hux tucked his face into the crook of his neck and begged him to say that he was unharmed.

He can feel Hux’s hands in his hair, can hear the slurred and horribly sad bargaining Hux drunkenly made to convince Kylo to stay. And he wants to.

He wants to stay more than Hux knows.

More than Hux may ever know.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's the end of Part Two!! I'd really like to thank those of you that consistently left really encouraging comments and reviews all throughout Part Two. So, thank you, thank you, thank you: FemaleSpock, prettycivilian, MsModernity, sunlightonwater (TFA_finn_poe_shipper), technorat, starlitexdecay, mocaccino, WinterfellsDaughter, oimarvel, nosseka, RubyQuinn, bloodandpepper, GingerSnappish, KaisaSolstys, wrmhle, nullsk, shotgunsue, MissMegh, Keeblo, Buffy1066, scarlet_tongue and Mavani! You all kept me motivated, left thoughtful, helpful reviews and y'all are stellar and I can't thank you enough for being so consistent and helpful and encouraging ; u ; <3
> 
> Now, Part Three will probably start being posted this weekend or upcoming week and I think I ought to put a warning here for those of you that need it.
> 
> The tags and warnings on Part Three WILL be alarming and upsetting. They’re also a little misleading, but mandatory. My point being that if you are someone who really, really dislikes angst, this might be the part where you jump ship. Part Three is gonna have a lot of stuff in it - smut and romance and stuff, but A LOT of other stuff going on and if you’re really not into angst, I’d probably veer you away from Part Three.
> 
> If you wanna have faith in me that I’ll bring you a satisfactory ending, by all means, please continue onto Part Three, as I’ll be thrilled to see you there, but if you don’t follow the series to the end, I understand! 
> 
> Hope you enjoy the end of Part Two! <3

When Kylo wakes, his arm is haphazardly thrown over Hux’s middle and Hux’s hand is lightly resting on his wrist. He’s pressed up close to Hux’s side – he doesn’t remember when they fell asleep. He only remembers thinking how he’d just rest his eyes for a moment – how Hux’s voice was so soothing, so calming, how his bed was so comfortable and smelled so thickly of him and then he was awake again with no idea of how much time had passed.

He looks over at the clock on Hux’s bedside table and shuts his eyes tightly, rejecting reality. 

He wants to tug Hux closer to him, breathe in the scent of his skin one last time before parting, maybe implant a thought or memory for Hux to lament over so that he might not feel so alone in his mourning. Or maybe it’d be better of him to wipe Hux’s memory altogether. 

He thinks about doing these things but knows he won’t.

Kylo thinks the greatest kindness he can bestow now is leaving Hux in peace. He has disturbed and troubled General Hux for more than a quick magic trick.

He influences Hux to sleep through the movement of him rising from the bed, washing and dressing. He stands by Hux’s desk for a few minutes, looking at the sketch of himself laid across Hux’s bed, his hand buried in the fur of Millicent’s belly. As if cued, Millicent walks up to him from the common area and sits next to his feet, curling her tail around her own paws. 

He looks down at her to meet her eyes.

He tells her he is sorry to be leaving her as well.

She rubs against his leg and then jumps onto Hux’s bed, laying her head over Hux’s chest. Her eyes are open, though and she is watching Kylo closely, as if to say, ‘I’ll cover for you.’ He bites his tongue harshly and runs an aggravated hand through his hair. 

There was a day once – there was a time he would have been thrilled to leave _Aurora_. He would have been beside himself to rejoin the Knights and be back under Snoke’s training, but now he can hardly remember wanting anything other than Hux’s company.

He grips at the hilt of his saber, reminds himself that there is much to be done, there is much more for him to learn and that if he wishes to destroy the scavenger girl before she dares to think of harming Hux, he must go. He cannot be distracted by matters of the heart – he very barely saved Hux’s life at the gala and calling that assassination attempt poorly executed is putting it lightly. Rey will be stronger the next he sees her and so he must be stronger than her.

He needs more power, more discipline. 

He knows he has to go.

He looks at Hux again. He looks so young in sleep, his lips are parted just a little and his body is so still. 

He kneels before Hux, still a few feet away from the bed. He keeps one hand on the hilt of his lightsaber and the other hand on his chest where he can feel Hux’s dog tags.

“Peace is a lie. There is only Hux. Through Hux, I am granted strength. Through the strength Hux grants me, I attain power. With the power Hux grants me, he will see me to victory. Through Hux, my chains will be broken and I will be free.”

The thought of looking upon Hux once more pains him too deeply, so without a backward glance, he stands, takes his helmet and leaves Hux’s quarters.

He eats alone, earlier than Phasma or Hux rise typically. His mind is troubled by the emptiness. The table is so usually full of life and conversation and now he may as well be a ghost, unstuck from time and repeating itself over and over in some effort to right the wrong of his loneliness. He barely finishes his meal and secures his mask again before walking out into the halls.

He narrowly avoids Jardom, but he does happen upon Nali despite his best efforts to steer clear of her.

When she sees him, she is overcome with joy as she usually is upon seeing him, but then she is immediately dampened with sadness. He approaches her calmly and she bows for him as she has taken to doing. 

“Lord Kylo Ren,” she greets solemnly.

“Nali.”

She looks up worriedly at him, “you are leaving us now?”

He nods, “I regret to say so, yes.”

“And where is the General?”

“Sleeping.”

Nali gives Kylo a quizzical look – she clearly does not approve of his departure methods, but she respects him too much to question him over it. Kylo can’t explain to her what seeing Hux does to him – he cannot explain that this is best for him and Hux both, that he leave in silence.

“Give Jardom a chance to make you happy,” Kylo advises, “He respects you tremendously and would make a good fit for you. You deserve happiness, Nali.”

Nali’s eyes water and she nods emphatically, “yes, Lord Kylo Ren. I will. I… I will miss you, Lord Kylo Ren.”

Before Kylo is entirely sure of what’s happening, Nali has thrown her arms around him and tugged him into a vice-like hug. He awkwardly returns it as much as he can, patting her head and touching gently at her shoulder. She is much smaller than him and although he knows about her alien strength, he is still concerned he might touch her with too much force or somehow hurt her.

Despite knowing she is capable of protecting herself, he still wishes he could grant her more security. Despite knowing he must go, he still wishes he could stay.

_I will miss you as well._

She sniffles, clears her throat and pulls away from him. She offers her hand to shake and says proudly, if a little unsteadily, “my deepest gratitude to the stars that brought our paths together, Lord Kylo Ren. It has been an honor and privilege to know you, learn from you and work beside you. I pray our paths cross again.”

He takes her hand, returns the sentiment and walks away briskly, uncertain he’ll be capable of boarding his travel pod if made to stare at her any longer. She exudes so much empathy and such a willingness and desire to learn from him – he is no General Hux to her, but he is something important. Something familial. Something she would visit in colorful woods even if the sight of him made her sick to her stomach. 

When he reaches the hangar, his ship is ready and Haas is up and about and seems all too pleased to help him board. When Haas asks what to put into navigation, Kylo tells him that his travels are classified and he’ll plug them in manually. Even this does not bother Haas – he is grinning and already looking forward to filling in for Kylo’s absence at Hux’s side. 

Rather than killing him, as all of Kylo’s instincts tell him to do, he chooses to start towards the pod.

Kylo knows time is running out for a silent exit when he spots Phasma at the bridge of the hangar. She removes her helmet so that he can see her expression; she seems sorry to see him leaving, but her energy exudes gratitude. He nods to her, unwilling to remove his mask and she nods back to him. 

He looks upon the early crew, some faces familiar and others not so much, but knowing it may be the last time he sees their faces makes the moment more emotionally demanding than he first thought possible.

He wonders how the control bridge looks, what sleepy officers are just getting off their shifts and what rested officers are taking over. He wonders what the dining hall will look like – whether Nali will sit with Jardom or skip the hall altogether and go to his quarters with him to dance and enjoy one another.

He absently wishes he could dance again with Hux.

He turns his back to the crew and boards his pod, entering data patiently – it’s the furious, quick step of boots on metal that breaks his focus. He turns to see Hux standing at the opening of the pod, his hair a little frayed, his fists tight and his face livid. Kylo waits for Hux to board the pod and doesn’t question Hux when he chooses to shut the pod’s door behind him.

“Hux. I didn’t think I’d see you.”

 _No, apparently not_ , Hux thinks loudly, making clear how highly offended he is.

“Yes, well, I’m here. Only proper to say goodbye.”

How Kylo had wished to avoid those words. He hates them more than he has hated anything in his life.

“Right. Only proper. Goodbye, then, Hux,” Kylo says, offering his hand to shake.

The proffered hand goes untouched at first. Hux runs a gloved hand over his hair, looking like he might shout or otherwise make a scene rather than take Kylo’s offer. He doesn’t, though – he stiffens his posture, sharpens his stare and shakes Kylo’s hand firmly. Once he’s let go, he stands there in a strained silence before saying, “well, this is, uhm… much more difficult than I first imagined.”

_How else did you imagine it?_

Hux glares at him and doesn’t deign to respond.

“Anything else to say? I’m already running late.”

Kylo knows he’s being cold, but every moment more spent with Hux is another thread being pulled from his carefully sewn self-control. He wants so badly to stay, wants to serve and protect Hux – he wants to go to breakfast with Hux, listen to him complain about the engineers and the unreasonable budget he’s been given for the missiles he’s being forced to design. 

He wants to know what becomes of Nali and Jardom. He wants to push Haas off a bridge.

He wants to meditate inside his illusion with Hux, he wants to dance again, he wants to laugh again, he wants to hear Hux sing in his shower, wants to spar with Hux, wants to feel handsome in that way Hux makes him feel by drawing him. Sometimes just in the way Hux looks at him. 

He wants to stay close to Hux. Closer than anyone else has ever been allowed and ever will be. He wants for so much he cannot have.

“Yes – I, well, you’ve been an absolute nightmare to have on board and I’m glad to be rid of you. Safe travels, of course, best wishes and all.”

Kylo smirks and his heart throbs. 

He expects Hux to turn about-face and stomp angrily to the control bridge, but the man doesn’t move. He stares at Kylo’s chest and cracks his knuckles compulsively. 

“What else?”

“Hmm?” Hux asks, as if being brought back to the surface from some daydream. 

“There’s something else you want to say. I can sense it.”

The air is very still and Kylo is worried now – he wonders if his visions bled into Hux’s meditation at some point. He wonders if he somehow failed to protect Hux from knowledge that would only serve to cause him more anxiety. Perhaps it is nothing at all, though. Perhaps he feels a migraine coming on and doesn’t know how to politely ask for Kylo to get rid of it before he leaves.

“…I’m not… a kind man, Ren.”

Kylo’s brows spring up behind his mask.

Never what he’s expecting.

“No, certainly not,” he agrees.

Hux clasps his hands behind his lower back and admits, “I wanted to steal something from you. Before you left. I’m considering letting you leave with it, though.”

“Steal something from me?” Kylo asks, intrigued, “What could I have that you’d possibly want?”

Hux’s eyes turn hard and he stares at where he knows Kylo’s eyes are beyond his helmet. Kylo’s chest constricts and Hux steps forward, gripping Kylo’s mask by either side.

_You want my mask?_

There’s no answer and there isn’t one required.

Hux pulls Kylo’s helmet down and presses his lips against where Kylo’s mouth would be. His eyes are shut, but Kylo is watching him closely, his heart pounding and making his armor unbearably hot. He can almost feel Hux’s lips – it’s probably just an illusion, just his mind feeling for a phantom sensation he’s been desperate for. Once Hux pulls away, he takes a few steps back and opens his eyes, looking down at his gloves and fixing at the cuffs that don’t need fixing.

“There,” Hux says with finality, “I know what it’s like to have it stolen – that first one. That’s not what I wanted to do to you. Consider it a mind trick of my own. Now, whenever someone else takes your first kiss, you’ll feel them, but you’ll think of me. I will come to the forefront of your mind, despite never actually having taken it from you… I wanted to steal your memory, I suppose. So. Yes. That’s… that’s all.”

Unable to move or speak, Kylo watches helplessly as Hux looks anywhere but at him and mutters, “well… safe travels, Lord Kylo Ren. And, uhm… what is it they say? Might safety always find you and – ah, yes – may the Force be with you. Safe travels, Ren and may the Force be with you.”

Clawing to escape, Hux goes to leave and Kylo panics, outstretching his hand and wrapping all of Hux in a Force hold. Hux’s back is still faced to him, his shoulders are high, his feet a few inches off the ground and his neck is red. 

Kylo takes a shaky step forward, “what makes you so sure that it will be taken and not given?”

“What?”

Kylo turns Hux’s body around and plants him back onto the floor. He releases the clasps of his helmet and takes it off, setting it aside. Hux swallows nervously and Kylo thinks Hux wouldn’t be so nervous if he knew how much control he has over Kylo. If he could feel how violently Kylo’s heart pounds for him.

“What makes you so certain that my first kiss will be taken from me and not willfully given?”

Hux doesn’t answer, only looks wide-eyed at Kylo as he slowly approaches.

“What if I gave it away?”

Hux stumbles a few feet backward until his back hits a wall. He looks over his shoulder at the wall, as if he’s searching for a latch or some escape route, but Kylo has him cornered and trapped.

“What if I gave it to you?”

Hux’s eyes widen impossibly further and he turns his head slowly to Kylo, his heart beating those familiar thirty-three beats per minute.

“Tell me, Hux,” Kylo says, a dangerous tone to his voice, “Tell me you want it and you’ll have it.”

There’s anxiety and uncertainty coming off him in waves when Hux answers, “I’ve taken what I wanted.”

Kylo very nearly growls in frustration.

“If you want more, tell me now. If you want me to kiss you, Hux, tell me so.”

“What are you trying to –“

“I won’t lay a finger on you until you tell me you want me to,” Kylo interrupts, face somehow hotter than it was beyond his mask, “I refuse to. You have had enough taken from you and I refuse to be another memory tainted with theft and regret! I don’t want to take from you, Hux – I don’t want to steal from you. Stop taming your heart, put aside your ease, your Stoicism, your composure or whatever it is you’re hiding behind today – and let me in. _Show_ yourself to me. Trust me. Tell me what you want.”

Kylo thinks Hux may not answer. Life would make more sense, frankly, if he didn’t. But to Kylo’s awe, Hux does respond. His heart rate sky rockets, his jugular bounces against his flustered neck and his eyes seem to shed some outer skin. They are eyes Kylo has never seen firsthand, but recognizes.

He recognizes those eyes from his visions of Hux and it’s as if all the blood in his body shifts in direction, flowing backward and at double the pace. This is the look in Hux’s eyes he has seen in his heated visions – so exposed, so defenseless and willingly so. So trusting, glowing and sparkling and brimming with emotions so heightened, they should belong to Kylo.

“Hux,” Kylo starts, his voice raspy and a little frantic, “Do you want me to kiss you?”

Hux’s eyes flicker between his, his lips part, but nothing comes out. Kylo thinks that this is perhaps the first time in a very long time that General Hux of the First Order has been frightened of anyone or anything. And Kylo can’t even tell who Hux is more frightened of; Kylo or himself.

“You’re the one I want to give it to,” Kylo confesses, trying to pry a response from Hux.

“What?”

“You’re the one,” Kylo says, emboldened by Hux’s voice returning to him – he quickly removes his gloves and then tugs off Hux’s as well so that he can twine their fingers and feel Hux’s smooth palms against his own, “you’re the one I want to give my kiss to. My first, my last and all that lie between. So, if you want me to, tell me so now. Do you want me to?”

 _This is too much_ , Kylo thinks in a rush to himself, _It is all too much to say and too much to say to him, but it’s still not enough. He cannot know – he can’t possibly know how deeply I feel. I’ve said too much and it’s still not enough._

He watches Hux’s neck, feels for his heart pounding at eighty-eight beats per minute and he’s overcome with emotion, overcome with the thought that he’s made Hux’s heart beat so quickly. Overcome with the thought that Hux is allowing him to feel the effect he has on Hux. He is only shocked back into looking into Hux’s eyes when he hears Hux mutter nervously, “…yes. I… I want you to.”

Kylo searches Hux’s eyes for any more hesitation, any glimpse of being influenced unknowingly by Kylo’s own selfish desires, but he only sees Hux. Unfiltered, uncensored – aware of the war outside the pod, but still present with him in this moment; present in a way he never has been before. Hux is raw and open before him and Kylo is unable to look away.

He takes his hands from Hux’s and cups Hux’s face, brushing his thumbs over Hux’s overheated cheeks. He stretches his mind, feels at Hux’s body and mind, able to sense how Hux wants to be kissed; he leans in and the first kiss is slow, purposeful and gentle. Hux makes some small, nearly wounded noise when Kylo kisses him and more than want, Kylo _needs_ more of it. He tilts Hux by the jaw and kisses him more deeply, eliciting a sinful moan and his hands begin to shake.

He has never wanted like this before.

His thumbs keep coming to touch the corners of Hux’s mouth, just to feel it – just to verify that this is all real and his lips are really against Hux’s lips and his kiss to Hux is really being returned and with fervor. 

Kylo’s brows curve in and his energy spirals out of control, undoing Hux’s uniform jacket and shirt without him physically touching Hux anywhere besides his beautiful, blushing face. 

Every time they part just to be pulled in again, there’s gasping and Kylo can’t tell if it’s him or Hux or the both of them. Hux’s tongue against his sends electricity through all of Kylo’s spine and chest, revitalizing him, uprooting his spirit and making him thirst for more. 

Kylo doesn’t even realize he’s Force-removing Hux’s clothes until he hears Hux’s panted breath between kisses telling him, “wait,” “Kylo – wait,” “Kylo – slow down,” “Kylo, we can’t,” but Kylo doesn’t and can’t stop. Once Hux’s upper and outer layers are open and off, he slides his hand up Hux’s undershirt and feels at his chest. 

Kylo’s right hand is still holding Hux’s face and when Hux looks at him in confusion, Kylo stammers out breathlessly, “I just… I just wanted to feel it. One more time.”

There’s another dire noise from Hux’s throat that Kylo doesn’t know how to categorize, but it doesn’t seem to matter. For the first time, it seems that Hux doesn’t care if he’s understood, so long as he is felt. And Kylo can feel him. 

Hux’s arms wind around Kylo’s neck, pulling him in again, kissing him heatedly and Kylo’s arms and hands move to hoist Hux up against the wall, press all his weight onto Hux and where he gasps, Hux moans.

He can feel the hard outline of Hux’s cock in his uniform pants, his hands shake and his heart skips a beat and he nearly apologizes, though he’s not sure why. Hux shakes his head, his eyes glazed over, “your fault,” Hux huffs, “undressing me like that…”

Kylo would laugh if he could, but Hux looking debauched and wanton against him, flustered and practically glowing with life makes his heart heavy with want. The thought that Hux might want him – might really want him that way – it’s intoxicating. He grinds his waist against Hux’s and Hux pitches forward, his hands gripping at Kylo’s hair and a tortured noise coming from deep in his chest.

“ _Kylo_ ,” Hux murmurs meaningfully.

Deeply satisfied with the sound of his name on Hux’s lips, Kylo leans in again, biting into Hux’s neck, making him intake sharply and throw his head back. Kylo uses that opening to lick up the column of Hux’s neck, sucking at a sensitive patch of skin right below the turn of his jaw and he knows it’s too high – he knows it will leave a visible mark no high uniform collar will be able to hide and he’s glad for it. Let them see. Let them all see.

Let Haas see, let Krin see – let them all see what they tried to steal, but could not be stolen for the fates have long assigned it to him. Let them see how rightfully Hux is his and no one else’s.

Hux moans his name and he moves his hips again, starts keeping a rhythm and hard as he is, he feels himself get harder the more Hux tugs on his hair and keeps muttering about how perfect he is, how good he is and Kylo can’t take it. He might come in his robes if he hears anymore, so he covers Hux’s mouth with his own again, swallowing the vibrations of Hux’s groaning.

For a few blissful moments, there is only the two of them, furiously moving against one another and kissing each other like it might be the end of all existence; Hux’s nails buried in Kylo’s hair and Kylo’s hands groping at Hux’s exposed sides and chest. The moment is violently broken when both of them hear Mitaka’s voice on the comm in Hux’s discarded uniform jacket pocket.

“Uhm – sir? Lord Kylo Ren’s pod is ready for departure. Are you… okay in there? Should I send guards?”

They break apart and Kylo stumbles back a little, all his nerves alight and every fiber of his body too sensitive. He watches Hux reach for his comm and reply, “no – everything is fine. I will be out momentarily.”

He turns the comm off and stands to look at Kylo more seriously again. 

His lips are swollen and dark, there’s a bruise forming on his neck, his hair is a mess and his eyes are still twinkling. He finally has a uniform to fix up, but can’t seem bothered to fix at it.

Kylo steps forward and kisses him again, sweetly, patiently and Hux’s hands come to his face and encourage him. He runs his fingers through Kylo’s hair gently, biting at his bottom lip and licking after it to soothe away the non-pain he left there. Kylo gathers Hux up in his arms and kisses him until their breathless again, reveling in the way Hux cups his neck and pulls him forward, wanting him impossibly closer.

When stopped to catch their collective breath, Hux pulls away and starts arranging his uniform again. As he looks down to button his shirt, he says, “you promised not to stray far. Don’t – don’t try to leave me like that again.”

“I’m sorry,” Kylo tells him, wanting to say so much more, but unsure of what.

Hux looks up at him from his buttoning and the plea in his eyes has Kylo gravitating toward him again, kissing him as he does up his shirt and puts on his jacket. Between every kiss he swears his allegiance to Hux, he promises to return and Hux makes fragile, shameless noises in reply.

“Do you hear me?” Kylo asks once Hux is straightening his uniform out and standing tall, “Do you understand?”

Hux shuts his eyes, gathering himself.

“When you need me, the Force _will_ lead me to you. I will never really be gone from you, Hux. I swear it. We will meet again.”

Hux is quiet for a beat too long.

“Do you believe me?”

“I do,” Hux answers readily, opening his eyes to Kylo again; they are guarded, but they shimmer with a secret connection only Kylo will ever recognize, “I trust you.”

Kylo’s heart pounds again and he wants to kiss Hux once more, but Hux opens the pod so that he can descend and step out. He looks at the floor, then back at Kylo.

“Please be safe, Kylo and may the Force be with you.”

Stuck somewhere between sobbing and grinning, Kylo smiles tragically and replies, “take care of yourself, Hux and may the Force be with you as well.”

Hux looks at him a moment longer, maybe dedicating this moment to memory before he turns and steps off the pod, back out onto the hangar. He turns again and watches Kylo. He walks backwards for a while, maintaining that eye-contact, very clearly hungry for more and parting with Kylo like he might be parting with a piece of his very soul. Eventually, though, he has to turn around and when he does, he hurries to the bridge and Kylo shuts the pod, encasing himself.

His hands are still shaking and his heart is still a rabid animal all its own. 

The human heart has four valves, four chambers and two major systemic veins. The normal rhythmical heart beat, the sinus rhythm, is established by the sinoatrial node, the heart's pacemaker, where an electrical signal is created that makes the heart muscle contract.

Not Hux’s heart, though.

Yes, Hux’s heart has four valves, four chambers and two major systemic veins. Yes, Hux’s heart interacts with the accelerans nerve and the vagus nerve. Yes, Hux’s heart is webbed with complicated veins and it pumps as any human heart should, but Hux is his own pacemaker. 

Hux conducts his own electricity, Hux is the orchestrator of the throbbing function of life lodged in his chest, masterfully in control at all times. 

And when he is inclined, when he feels safe enough, he lets his heart act on its own.

He puts his mind to rest, he lets his guards fall and Kylo felt it – he _felt_ it – he _felt_ Hux’s heart trying to burst forth from his ribs, bumping against his flesh, against Kylo’s hand.

 _His heart is safe in my hands_ , Kylo thinks to himself.

He touches at the dog tags under his robes and swears he will return to Hux.

There is no other possibility. 

There is nothing else, no one else.

There is only Hux.


End file.
